


Apotheosis

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Dakeverse [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Business, Compulsion, Custom Clans - Dakeverse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Subterfuge, Trans Male Character, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-03-05 22:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18837934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: When the tech company Connor Arkay built with his brother experiences a surprisingly profitable quarter, the doors to high society open up to make way. Fancy parties, new business contacts, a seat at the adult’s table— It should have been a windfall and the logical reward for their years of hard work. But as Connor begins to rub elbows with the societal elite, he realizes things aren’t quite so clear cut. From persistent attempts at corporate takeover to shady deals nudged towards him under the table, the risks begin to outweigh the potential rewards as Connor finds himself pursued by a mysterious group keen on obtaining his allegiance, one way or another.It stood to reason that rising through the ranks would open doors. Connor just wished he took the time to consider who—or what—would be waiting for him on the other side.(Prequel to Letifer)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it's finally here! the much anticipated prequel to Letifer is nigh, and I think you all are gonna be in for one hell of a time >:3 im writing this fic piecemeal so updates will happen when they happen. i would suggest subscribing for notifications and also checking out Letifer if you haven't already. This fic functions as a standalone but as with most things in life, is better when paired with something complimentary. enjoy!

Connor grunted when yet another not-quite-drunk but one-drink-past-tipsy partygoer stumbled into him from behind. This time it was an older man, ruddy cheeked and bellowing to a friend across the room, and just like every single one before him, he didn’t stop to apologize before correcting his balance with a hand on Connor’s shoulder and carrying on his way. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Connor let out a single sigh. Before tonight, he hadn’t thought it possible to stand in a room full of people and feel invisible. 

An hour to midnight and Connor still couldn’t believe this was how he was spending New Year’s Eve.

He supposed he should feel honored or some pretentious feeling like that. Not many made the cut for the Annual New Year’s Eve Detroit-Tech Mixer Extravaganza. God, even thinking about the name made him want to roll his eyes. Connor let out a sigh through his nose, careful not to let his frustration show. In all honesty, they really had been lucky to get an invite at all. He should be grateful.

But then another drunkard brushed past him, missing dousing him in champagne by a mere inch. Connor took a step back and dodged the swiping hands that windmilled out for stability, replying to the slurred apology with as bright and peppy a voice as he could manage. “Oh, that’s alright,” Connor gave, directing it at the man’s frustrated date when she came out of the crowd to help the guy stand. She looked about as miserable as he felt, and that if nothing else motivated Connor to smile.

“I swear he isn’t usually like this,” she tried, but Connor just waved it off. It didn’t matter, and it definitely wasn’t true. The woman winced through a smile and dragged her date off towards the tables sequestered around the edges of the party, hissing something in the man’s ear that he probably wouldn’t remember come morning. 

On a whim, Connor scanned the party. He hadn’t come here alone either. Where had Nines gotten off to? Connor drifted away from the main social floor and headed towards the long tables sporting trays of finger food that hadn’t been deemed worthwhile enough to make the mobile menu carried around by the wait staff. Nines hated these sorts of gatherings even more than Connor did. If he hadn’t just run off outright, he was probably sticking close to the food, booze, and shadows.

There weren’t many of the latter. The promenade of the Guardian Building was a gorgeous location for the party, especially after the renovations that had taken place just a few years ago. Connor let his eyes drift towards the ceiling, drinking in the intricate designs unique to the type of place only Detroit could produce. Decorations that might have been garish anywhere else were refined here, offset by the art deco aesthetic enough that the kitschy  _ Say Welcome to 1994! _ banners simply added to the splendor.

This wasn’t Connor’s first visit to the iconic building, but it was his first time seeing this part of it. He returned his attention to the ground level and frowned when he couldn’t see any sign of his brother anywhere. Had Nines disappeared down the hall?

“If you ditched me,” he hissed between his teeth, turning on his heel to look back the way he came. “I swear to God, if he ditched me here—”

“Looking for someone?”

Connor immediately colored. He whipped around, smile pulling itself back into place just in time to see he hadn’t been as alone as he previously assumed. A woman stood just six inches from him. From the way she smiled, closed-lipped and knowing, he could tell she had heard every word he just said. 

She was an attractive woman, but then again, most people here were. Some men had movie stars on their arms just to flaunt the fact that they could, and if someone had pointed towards this woman and told Connor she was that level of arm candy, he would probably have believed them. She had dark curls of inky black and a paleness to her that spoke to an almost porcelain sort of appeal. The scent of jasmine perfume filled Connor’s nose when he inhaled sharply. He didn’t know her, didn’t recognize her, but something told him he wanted to do both.

Just a touch too late to save face, Connor answered, “Just my brother. I think I lost track of him.” 

The woman slowly tilted her head to the side, sending a waterfall of curls tumbling down her shoulder. “Understandable,” she said, blinking slowly, and for some reason Connor couldn’t make himself look away from her pale eyes. “It’s easy to get wrapped up in the party. This is your first Mixer, right? It’s good to have friends at these things to help when things like that happen. I’m Lucretia.” She smiled a little wider, showing just a hint of pearl white teeth. “Lucretia Collins. I’d be charmed to be your friend.”

“I’m… Connor Arkay,” he returned, shaking the woman’s cool hand with a readiness that surprised him. An odd pressure was building behind his eyes. Was he getting a headache? He smiled warmly regardless and resolved to drink some water as soon as he could find a glass. “Is it that obvious? I’ve never had the pleasure of getting an invitation before, so I’m a little out of my element.”

Lucretia looked him up and down, slowly releasing his hand. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a pitying smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve just got an eye for things like that. Whose plus-one are you? It’s a bit rude of your date to leave you here all alone, isn’t it?” She looked around a bit and then at Connor once more. She pouted a little. “Maybe I should have a word with them for you.”

“For me…” He began, trailing off as her meaning locked into place. Ah. The smile on Connor’s face went brittle. She thought he was someone’s  _ date.  _ “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m Connor Arkay? CEO of RKam Enterprises?” Awkwardly, he wondered if he would need to pull out his invitation to make her believe him. “My brother and I were invited here after our third quarter profits made headlines back in October…?”

Lucretia’s eyes narrowed, then widened with recognition. She clapped her hands together and cocked her head, her curls falling in a shimmery inky wave. “Oh! I remember reading about that,” she admitted. Her smile turned apologetic while her eyes remained shrewd. “Sorry for assuming. I just hadn’t expected you to be so  _ young.” _

They never did. 

Connor kept on smiling. “I think it tends to surprise people,” he admitted. He couldn’t begin to count how many times he had walked into the boardroom to meet with some high ranking corporation owner only to have them ask him for a cup of coffee, please, before the CEO arrives for their meeting. “But don’t let it fool you; age isn’t everything, and I think my acumen speaks for itself.”

“Oh, you don’t have to convince me,” she replied, lifting her hands in surrender. “I’m in the same boat, more or less. Though I can’t say I’m CEO of anything just yet,” she finished, smiling indulgently.

“Give it time,” he teased. She  _ was  _ pretty young looking, and that helped Connor relax just a bit. Usually the ones who tried to undermine him were significantly older than the late-twenties she looked. “You’ll get there.”

“I certainly hope so.” She gave him a discerning look, up and down, then another probing smile. The pressure behind Connor’s eyes increased a little. “It’s really impressive you’ve been able to do so much in such a short time. I think my boss would be interested in talking with you about your current and future work. I know he’s always on the hunt for new blood.”

Before Connor could give his customary deflection, his mouth was moving to say, “Oh, of course. That sounds great.”

Lucretia clapped her hands. “Excellent. We’re always looking to find new ways to expand our sphere of influence, and from what I recall your tech company is perfectly in line with those goals.” Her eyes narrowed. Connor winced as a sharp pain grew behind his eyes. “I’m sure you normally schedule meetings for these kinds of things, but who needs such formality among friends? My boss is just across the room. Would you mind if I go fetch him?”

_ Yes, _ Connor minded. He hadn’t come to this mixer to make any sort of formal business connections. In fact his advisors had strictly warned against it. He was to get names, make acquaintances, and set up future meetings to discuss things with his advisors present. He parted his lips to say something, anything, that would get that message across.  

“Sure,” Connor answered, jaw clenched tight enough that he was surprised the words managed to get out from behind them. “Let’s do that.”

Lucretia tapped the side of her nose with one finger, winking at him knowingly. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, turning on her tall heel. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Connor didn’t bother replying. He just watched her flounce off into the crowds, bobbing and weaving like a mountain goat as she searched for this illusive boss of hers. He let out a harsh breath and rubbed at his temples with both hands. God, his head! What even was that? And fuck, what had he just agreed to? He hadn’t come here to talk business— at least, not like this. He wasn’t the type to make promises like that, to imply… To imply what? To imply he was open to any random proposal that came his way? It just wasn’t what he did. 

Something brushed his shoulder, and Connor steeled himself for another verbal bout. He lifted his head, frown threatening to tug his shallow smile apart— 

“Here,” a familiar, welcome voice murmured. A glass was brandished near his hand, brimming with champagne. “You look like you need this.”

Connor’s entire body sagged with relief. “Nines,” he sighed, taking his brother by the arm. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask where the hell he’d been all night. It didn’t matter, so long as he was here now. “For a minute there I thought you were another asshole coming to wave their pocketbook in my face.” Or… whatever it was Lucretia was up to. 

Nines quirked a brow at that. His lips puckered as he glanced around at the gathered gentry. “Sounds like you’ve been having fun.”

Snorting, Connor squeezed Nines’s arm and let go. “That’s a word for it. These people are relentless. You’d think a party would make people a bit more sociable but I think it just makes them more opportunistic.”

“Are you even surprised?” Nines asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I told you before I hate these things. They don’t get us anywhere and it just stresses me out.” He sipped from his glass ruefully. Connor almost felt bad for dragging him along. Neither of them had wanted to come, but it was clear which of them was better at keeping up appearances once it was all said and done. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m not feeling the pressure too.” Literal in some ways. 

Nines lowered his glass and frowned. “You might as well just enjoy the free booze then and leave it at that.”

Connor smiled, looking at the full glass Nines had in one hand and the nearly empty one in the other. “Like you do, right?” Judging by the flush on his brother’s cheeks and the unbuttoned front of his suit, he could only assume Nines had been enjoying himself thoroughly in any way he could. His smile faded a little at the thought. “How many have you had tonight? Four? Five?”

A snort. The drink pressed against his hand, cold and sweating a little. “Seven, but who’s counting? Take it already. I’m not your cup holder.” 

Sighing, Connor shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not planning on drinking tonight,” he answered, gently pushing the glass away. There were too many high rollers here tonight, most of which clearly not taking him seriously. He looked mournfully at the crowd around them and then back at Nines. “One of us has to keep our wits about us, and I think I’m getting a migraine as it is.”

“If you say so,” Nines shrugged, downing the contents of the glass in one go. 

Connor frowned. “Nines.”

“What?” he gasped, catching his breath. A passing waiter drifted by and Nines dropped his empty glasses on the tray, letting them join the assortment of finger foods meant to go on the buffet style table across the room. “Just because you won’t live a little doesn’t mean I’m gonna do the same. Prude.”

“Because it’s so prudish not to want someone to sign away our company because both of us got drunk on champagne,” Connor hissed, flushing a little when more than a couple heads turned their way. He lowered his voice and tried again a little calmer, “Nines, you know they don’t think we belong here, and you treating this mixer like it’s just another night at the club isn’t helping things. We need to make a good impression if we want any of chance of forming prospective relationships with these people...”

He trailed off because he could already tell that Nines had stopped listening to him. Nines’s attention was off towards the far end of the room, his eyes locked on the fresh drinks resting on a shiny tray just coming through the service doors. Connor covered his face with his hands and willed himself not to scream. Why did he even try? Nines was always like this at these sorts of things: completely useless and hell bent on being that no matter what the situation might call for. 

But that was what  _ he  _ was here for, right? Connor would handle it. It wasn’t as if there were anyone else here to do it for them.

“I’m… going to get some air,” Connor settled on, avoiding Nines’s gaze when it turned toward him in a flash. Something in his tone was giving him away. He cleared his throat a little and tried to get the spite out of his tone as he said, “Do what you want. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Nines stilled, his expression flatlining in the blink of an eye. He crossed his arms tight and slowly Connor chanced a glance at him. “Don’t worry,” his brother said coldly. “I won’t make a mess for you to clean up.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Save it. Go get your air,” Nines said, cutting him off. He turned on his heel and walked away without bothering to let Connor get in another word. 

“God,” Connor muttered, rubbing at his eyes. Real mature, as always. He counted himself lucky that Nines had bothered to keep a low profile at all. When the boredom hit and the bottom of his glass became too glaringly oppressive, Nines was liable to wander off to proposition security guards. It was the last thing they needed at a place like this. Not around these people. Not when they’d never been so on display. 

Connor frowned as his fingertips began to twitch, aching to pluck a cigarette from the carton in his breast pocket. He closed his eyes and sighed. So, the stress was already that bad? He couldn’t even make it to midnight. Connor opened his eyes and stalwartly pushed through the crowd, eyes locked on one of the balcony areas down the single hall open to the partygoers. Given how cold it was outside, he doubted anyone would be keeping company on one of them. 

He needed a cigarette, a moment to think, and a new fucking life; going outside wouldn’t give him all of that, but two out of three wasn’t  _ that  _ bad.

A quick glance at his watch told him he had less than ten minutes until midnight. He’d only need four to smoke, maybe three more to hype himself up enough to come back into the fold and put on the smile everyone wanted to see as they all toasted into the New Year. Doable. Tight, but doable.

Connor lifted his head and took another quick glance around, starting off towards the hallway that would take him to salvation. He could spot Nines leaning up against a far wall, half hidden behind a pillar as he sipped on his eighth? Ninth drink of the night. Their eyes met briefly, and Nines turned away first, snatching the front of a passing man and pulling him into the shadows. Connor sighed and looked away. He’d need a lot longer than ten minutes to recover if he let himself linger on that for longer than necessary.

On the other side of the room he saw more of what he wanted to see: groups of drunk, laughing CEOs and managers, giggling escorts with diamonds around their necks and wrists worth more than most people made in a year. Connor shoved his hands into his pockets and drifted through the ranks of those still finding their place in the mirth, there but not a part of it all, and let himself wonder for a moment if he wouldn’t be happier joining them. He could drink away the night, laugh at ill-humored jokes, and maybe even feel like a successful CEO reaping the rewards of a decade’s worth of hard work. 

Or he could not, he figured, attention drifting elsewhere. He could keep doing what he was doing and maintain some distance from the people who had looked down on him for his age and ideas, and perhaps enjoy the company of people who didn’t view those things as stepping stones or worse. 

Connor lifted his head a little, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Of course, he’d have to  _ find  _ people like that to spend time with them, but he was sure they were out there. Maybe not in this room, but elsewhere— 

The scent of jasmine tickled his nose, cutting off the thought before it could reach its logical conclusion. Connor flicked his head around, senses on alert for… There. There, he could see her now. Lucretia was just half a hall away and eyeing him intently. He saw the way Lucretia moved, the determined glint in her eyes as she guided someone who had to be her boss his way. Connor swallowed, then promptly panicked. He didn’t  _ want  _ to talk to them, no matter the sort of word vomit he’d given her before. He just wanted to be alone and smoke. 

If he were in a better state of mind, he’d call it a calculated weighing of the pros and cons that urged his limbs to move. A tactical retreat maybe, or something else with a graceful, face-saving name to it, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t anything he could be proud of. As it was, he could only call it instinct, and that was being kind. Connor ducked behind the row of waiters streaming out of the inner kitchens nearby, their arms full of platters holding the crystal flutes of champagne no doubt meant to toast in the New Year in some odd handful of minutes. He drew plenty of attention from the staff with it, especially when he moved with his head down, walking in tandem until he was within range of his immediate goal. 

“Sir?” one murmured, glancing at him oddly while artfully balancing the tray of drinks. “Are… Is everything okay?”

“Just avoiding some unwanted company,” Connor whispered in a willful burst of honesty. He bit his lip and looked over the waitress’s shoulder. He relaxed a tick when he saw Lucretia had paused short of the tables, head tilted oddly as she searched the crowd for a face she could no longer see. 

Before she turned back around, Connor moved, darting forward the last few feet that separated him from the safety of the hall. His heart hammered in his chest, and he hated himself a little for the reaction.  _ It was just small talk, _ he hissed to himself,  _ not torture.  _ Only, it felt like torture, didn’t it? He couldn’t think of a worse thing at the moment than getting stuck in another conversation with her. His skin prickled at the thought alone, and he moved a little faster for it.

The handle to the balcony door was cool when he took it in hand, but he didn’t let that or the matching could outside deter him as he opened it and slipped through. Cold, wintry air stung at his cheeks, the height of the building granting the night a wind it hadn’t boasted back when he and Nines had strolled up the steps earlier that evening. Connor shoved his hands into his pockets and moved away from the door, fingers curling around his lighter like a lifeline. He let out a breath that clouded the air in front of him. 

Finally. Alone. 

Pulling his lighter from his pocket, he didn’t stop walking until he reached the stone railing that rimmed the balcony. He rested his hands on it, fingers curled around the lighter, and let himself sag. His shoulders ached from the effort of standing so tall, his cheeks aching from the force of keeping up a smile for so long. Connor kneaded at his eyes and welcomed the biting cold as it cut through the layers of his suit. It made him feel more human. More… normal.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging his hand down his chin. “What a fucking mess.”

A throat cleared behind him, close enough to send a sharp stab of fear straight through his heart. 

Again, his body moved on instinct, not thought. Connor spun on his heel, the slick bottom of his dress shoe catching on the smooth stone and sliding out from beneath him. He felt the icy, hard edge of the stone railing behind him as it rammed into his lower back. He swung out his hands but there was nothing to grab onto. The orange-tinged sky filled his vision as he began to fall— 

And a hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist before gravity could drag him over the edge.

The sky retreated, replaced with motes of black as Connor’s heart struggled to restart. His feet hit the floor, and he immediately pitched forward, grabbing onto the person in front of him. With one hand he clutched his chest, the other the expensive suit of his savior. Connor sucked in the biting winter air and forced himself to lift his head. Jesus Christ. He’d nearly  _ died.  _

“You’re okay,” that voice murmured soothingly, making no move to pull away. “I caught you. Are you well?” A pause. The man—and it was a man—turned to look towards the building. “Should I call someone?”

Connor made himself lift his head at that. He shook it violently. “No— No.” He sucked in another lungful of the painful, stinging air, and forced himself to smile. “Thank you. I’m… I’m fine.” His heart thudded with the tattoo of a lie between his ears, but that was fine. He’d lied before. He’d grown used to the taste, and he’d swallow it now too no matter how bitterly it went down.

With more willpower than he expected he held, Connor slowly let go of the man’s suit jacket. He stood up straight and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I’m… God, I’m so sorry for that,” he blurted out, lifting his head to look at his savior. 

Immediately he was struck by the man’s eyes. They were a sharp, wintry grey, and looking into them sent another shard of ice down Connor’s throat until he felt cold inside and out. He sucked down a rattling breath and took in thick brown hair, arched brows, high cheekbones and pale lips curled into a worried frown. A dusting of stubble graced the man’s cut jaw. 

Somehow it figured that a man this handsome would see him fall apart after nearly toppling over the edge of a building. 

“Are you apologizing for almost dying?” the man asked him slowly, his brows knitting together in what had to be incredulity. 

Connor swallowed, a bubble of nervous laughter escaping from his lax lips. He dropped his gaze and grimaced. “More at you having to jump in like that,” he corrected, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles he’d left in the expensive suit jacket his savior wore. “And for this,” he mumbled. “Please send me the bill. I’m really sorry.” God, what was wrong with him tonight? 

“That won’t be necessary.” The man looked him up and down carefully. Probably to make sure he really was unharmed, Connor figured, even though it felt a bit more… probing than that. Maybe it was just his eyes. They were such a piercing shade of grey, like the pale of the moon seen from underwater, the tinge of blue just a trick of the light. 

Who was he anyway? Someone important, maybe. Everyone at this party was important. Well, everyone but Connor. 

Shit. He was supposed to be making good impressions at this thing, not just wrinkles in expensive suits and a fool of himself. Connor stood taller and tried to make himself fall back into the role he’d come out here to escape.

“Sorry. Let me introduce myself.” His frame of mind was so far from where it should be. He tried to give himself credit for pushing through it as much as he was now. “I’m Connor,” he offered, extending his hand because that at least felt like the proper thing to do given the circumstances. “Connor Arkay.” He let out a breath. “Of RKam Industries,” he tacked on, since it seemed pertinent for some reason. If this man thought he was someone else’s plus one, he really might just throw himself over the edge and be done with it. 

“Elijah Kamski,” he returned, contemplating Connor’s outstretched hand for a moment. He tilted his head to the side, only taking it when Connor was almost positive he was going to be left hanging. “Aren’t you cold, Mr. Arkay? It’s a rather inhospitable evening for stargazing or...” He looked Connor up and down. “Otherwise.”

Connor didn’t answer. At least, not right away. He stared at the hand wrapped around his own, feeling the cold kiss of Elijah’s metal rings, the smooth touch of his skin. What he didn’t feel, though, was warmth. For all intents and purposes, it felt as if he’d taken hold of a statue instead of a man. He hadn’t realized it before when the same hand had reached out to drag him from the edge. Before, he supposed, he just hadn’t had time to notice.

Elijah Kamski blinked at him slowly. He didn’t try to pull away from the rapidly growing awkward handshake. “Mr. Arkay?”

“What? Oh, sorry.” Connor dropped Elijah’s hand and discreetly tucked his back into his pockets. He wrapped his fingers around his carton of cigarettes. It was... grounding. 

He didn’t know why he felt he needed to be grounded.

Swallowing, Connor shifted a little, resting his weight against the ice cold stone base that made up the railing of the balcony. “I just came out to have a smoke,” he managed, hating himself a little for how late that reply felt. Mucking up every conversation he had seemed to be the flavor of the evening. God, he really should’ve just stayed home tonight. 

“Are you going to?”

Lifting his gaze from his shoes, Connor looked at Elijah. He blinked. “What?”

Elijah smiled a slow, easy smile. “You said you came out here to smoke. Are you going to?”

Connor looked around at the ground, frowning. “I don’t think so,” he muttered mournfully. He drew his gaze over towards the skyline. “I think I lost my lighter over the edge. So, unless you just so happen to have a spare one on you…?”

“I’m afraid I never found a taste for that particular vice,” Elijah answered him, dashing Connor’s hopes and dreams to death against the sharp, cold night. 

“Figures.” Connor sighed and looked over at his new acquaintance. Elijah wasn’t wearing an overcoat. Another refuge from the less than stellar party? “If you didn’t come here to smoke, can I ask what you’re doing out here?” He flashed a self-deprecating smile. “Aside from nearly scaring me into an early grave, of course. Unless that’s the sort of vice you’ve got a taste for, not that I’m going to judge you for it. This kind of party brings out the worst in people.”

Elijah gave him a closed-mouth smile, like he was being funny or something. “I was already out here when you arrived. I heard you talking to yourself. I figured the polite thing to do would be to announce my presence before you said something you didn’t want overheard.”

Heat rushed to Connor’s cheeks. He swiftly looked anywhere that wasn’t at Elijah. “I… really didn’t think anyone else would be antisocial enough to come out here.” 

“Well, like you said,” his companion teased, leaning artfully against the railing. “This kind of gathering brings out the worst in people.”

Despite being the one to say it first, Connor felt the sentiment echo deep in his bones. He rubbed at his temples a bit, relieved the pressure had gone away entirely. “I think it was giving me a headache,” he admitted. “I’m glad I managed to slip away before it stuck.”

Elijah hummed. “Rubbing elbows with the unsavory tends to yield that sort of response. What was it that caused it? An unwanted flirtation? Or wait. Someone spilled their drink on you, right?”

Connor snorted. “I wish. I bumped into a woman who complimented me one minute and then tried to pull the wool over my eyes the next.” He gave Elijah a wry sort of smile. “Just looking at her made my head feel like it was stuffed full of cotton. She said her boss would be interested in my work, and I think we all know what she meant by that.”

“Oh?” Elijah raised a brow. “Do tell.”

Connor leaned heavily against the railing. “She thought I would be an easy mark,” he said dispassionately. Music was pouring out of the building, and Connor frowned at it as he turned his face away from the door. “Send the young assistant to butter me up and then swoop in when they think they smell blood in the water.”

“But you won’t be taken in so easily.” The way Elijah angled his body towards Connor belied the breezy tone he employed. Connor chewed on his inner cheek. Was the man interested in doing the same, or was he just interested in Connor?

“I didn’t get to where I am now by letting people walk over me,” Connor said simply. He rubbed at his temples errantly. He still couldn’t explain why he came so close to doing just that before, though.

“No,” Elijah smiled. “I can’t imagine you did.”

From anyone else that might have come off as mocking. Connor’s ears flushed from something other than the cold when all he heard in Elijah’s tone was sincerity. Maybe even… No, that was stupid. He hadn’t impressed this man. He didn’t even  _ know  _ this man. He was simply a kind ear turned towards him as he complained about his social woes. Connor looked down at the streets far below. It’d be a problem if he let things get away from himself by imagining things now.

The sound of the door opening drew both of their eyes away from one another— from the street, Connor corrected. They weren’t staring. A woman in a tight, nondescript blue evening dress slipped through the door. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink from the cold. Connor couldn't say he knew who she was. Was she lost? She had what looked to be a phone near her ear— 

“Chloe,” Elijah said, drawing Connor’s eyes towards him. “Did you need something?”

She pulled the phone away from her ear, covering the mouthpiece with one hand. Connor eyed it curiously. It was smaller than most cell phones currently available on the market. Was it one of Elijah’s company phones? He ached to know more. “I apologize for interrupting,” Chloe said quietly, glancing at Connor before fixing her brilliant blue eyes on Elijah alone. “There’s been a development with the Dresden investors.”

Connor looked away, deflating a bit. So, she was one of his assistants then. Elijah must be important if he fielded calls even on a holiday, but then again, he knew that song and dance by heart. The company had been nice while it lasted. Elijah would have to take that call, maybe even have to leave the party entirely to sort out whatever problem that had arisen. 

The city below glittered like a jewel. A sigh clouded the air in front of Connor, obscuring the sight until it dissipated into nothingness. Where did that leave him then? He couldn’t hide out here all night. He’d freeze to death before someone came looking for him, but that was only if Lucretia and her boss had given up the hunt. Would Nines bother looking? Connor recalled the man he’d dragged into the corner with him. If Nines behaved here the way he behaved everywhere else… 

Connor sighed a little louder this time. This whole evening was turning into a complete bust. 

“Tell them I’ll speak to them about it tomorrow,” Elijah answered curtly. “I’m currently engaged in a conversation.”

Wait. What?

“You don’t have to do that,” Connor reacted, twisting around in a rush. He looked between Elijah and Chloe, waving his hand in the air. “Really, I don’t mind. Business is important, right?”

Elijah’s lips quirked in what might have been a smile. “So are conversations.” He nodded at Chloe. “I’ll speak with them tomorrow. Is that all?”

Swallowing, Connor’s voice was weak even as Chloe replied in the affirmative. “You really don’t have to…” But Chloe was already turning to leave, and Elijah made no move to stop her and reconsider. 

The door closed behind her, taking with it most of the music that had bled through the open door. They were alone again now, the low whistle of the wind the only thing keeping the silence between them from really sticking. Connor inhaled slowly. He watched Elijah as the man leaned artfully against the same stone that nearly saw Connor’s demise. Connor drifted a little closer to him. “Should you really be ignoring business calls just to talk to a stranger on a balcony?”

Elijah’s striking eyes met his. “For a stranger? Oh, probably not,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking into a slight smile. “For Connor Arkay though? I think I can spare the time.”

Something like dread pooled into Connor’s stomach. He tried not to wince as he asked, “You know me?” 

“Not yet,” he answered, looking out at the city. “But perhaps that’s why I didn’t take the call.”

Connor bit at his bottom lip. Unsure of what else to do, he joined Elijah at the railing. “I think my advisors would string me up if I ignored a business call. It’s unprofessional... or something like that.” He let his eyes trace the familiar skyline, but try as he might he couldn’t keep himself from sneaking furtive looks at the man beside him. There was a serenity to him that seemed so at odds with the kind of man he must be to have been invited to this mixer. A flicker of anxiety took root in the pit of Connor’s stomach. God, he wished he hadn’t dropped his lighter. 

“Is that something you do?” Elijah asked, catching Connor in the act of observing him. He raised a brow. “Listen to your advisors, that is.”

“Don’t you?” Elijah didn’t look that much older than him. “I’m young. I won’t say I’m inexperienced, but everyone who sits down in that boardroom with me does so believing I am. It’s easier to push my own agendas when I can wrap it in the words my advisors use when presenting their own.”

Elijah cocked his head and simply said, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why bother hiding behind the words of others?”

“Because it’s security,” Connor answered. “It makes the investors feel better about leaving the reins in my hands.”

This time Elijah turned to face him. He looked… interested, though maybe entertained was a better word. Like he saw something in Connor that fascinated him. He let Connor’s words hang heavy in the air. When the wind finally took them away, he let his attention turn skywards. His lips formed a small, mysterious smile. He seemed content to leave the discussion at that. 

“Why did you really ignore that call?” Connor asked, a new feeling taking up residence in his stomach. His cheeks tingled.

“Because it’s a nice night,” he said simply, staring up at the night sky. “I find I’d like to enjoy it with someone who… understands.”

Elijah paused then, giving Connor another one of those searching looks. “And you do understand,” he whispered. He slowly let his eyes rake upwards, drawing Connor’s like a moth to flame. “Don’t you?”

Connor… understood something. This wasn’t the sort of man he’d find a dozen of back in that ballroom. Elijah was… something else.

Something different.

His pulse skittered when the sky looked the same now as it had when he was falling. “My brother always says I’ll die young if I don’t loosen up a bit.” The stars glittered dully, struggling to shine through the light given off by the city below. Pale, muddy orange, dizzyingly high. “Sometimes... I think he’s right.”

Elijah hummed. He said nothing, but when Connor thought about it, there probably wasn’t much to say to something like that. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered saying it at all. Maybe it was just that kind of night. Maybe he was taking advantage of the fact that they had met like this and didn’t know one another from Adam. A moment of anonymity back lit by a party full of who’s who and everyone besides. 

Behind him came the sound of cheers and cries to get ready, get ready! The excitement was palpable, but for some reason Connor felt… distanced from it. Like he was separate from it, hearing it from a great distance off. He lifted his head and glanced towards Elijah.

“The ball’s going to drop soon,” Connor said, not bothering to look towards the source of the sound. 

Elijah smiled a soft, almost melancholic smile. “Maybe so.” He let his gaze trail out over the city, the glints of far off lights reflecting in his strange, gilded eyes. “Where do you plan on being when it happens?”

That was a question, wasn’t it. With Nines maybe. But… no. Nines had his own distractions, his own methods for ushering in a new year with new drinks and new faces he’d never see again come morning. Connor looked at his pale, numb fingers and loosened his hold on the stone railing. It hurt a little. He was cold out here. “I should go back inside.”

Without looking away from the speckled blanket of the city, Elijah hummed. “Will you?”

“What?”

Elijah turned. He looked at Connor with the same sort of curiosity, the same sort of muted anticipation he reserved for the sky and the city and everything that wasn’t the room behind them. It made Connor’s heart pound a little harder, a little faster. It was a discerning sort of focus. Like... Connor was worth his scrutiny. 

“Will you go inside?” Elijah murmured. His hand was still on the icy stone. If it hurt him, if it made him numb, he didn’t show it. He didn’t care. 

Connor thought about it. He thought about what he had to go back to in there. He smiled and shook his head. “No,” he answered, looking out at the city he called home. “I don’t think I will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally back! i got hammered with a hell of a lot all at once but i think the worst has passed and im able to get back into the swing of things. enjoy!

Connor’s eyes opened to a dark room and a screeching alarm at precisely 5:15 a.m. the Monday after the gala. Exhaustion clung to every inch of his being, the weight making itself known by the second beep. With a heavy sigh, Connor reached out and silenced the alarm. He sat up without a thought given to hitting snooze instead. 

He never hit snooze. He didn’t have the luxury of something like that. Hadn’t for awhile now. 

Throwing back the blankets, Connor flicked on the lamp on his nightstand. His blinked blearily, rubbing at his smarting eyes, and sighed. Winter was the worst. Waking in the dark was the worst. The room was chilly, his bare feet already dreading the hardwood floor waiting for him below. Like most days, he just bit the bullet; he threw back the blanket and forced himself to stand up, taking the chill the way most might take a bracing pull from their morning coffee, namely, all at once and with the knowledge that another day of work lay ahead. 

God, what he wouldn’t do for a few more hours of sleep.

Connor stumbled towards his bathroom and flicked on the light in there too. He briefly met eyes with his reflection in the mirror, frowning at the horrible state of his hair. His eyes were a little puffy, the heavy bags beneath them mixing with the dark brown of his irises until the whole area looked tired, dark, and just… Ugh. Connor ran his fingers through his hair with one hand, then moved it down to his chin. There was some stubble, but not a lot. He could put off shaving for another day. 

“Maybe I’ll grow a beard,” he mumbled, turning towards the shower to paw at the knob until it turned on. He could make that his New Year’s resolution. It’d make him look older, less baby faced. But then Nines would make fun of him, wouldn’t he? Connor shrugged off his shirt and dropped his boxers, kicking them towards the laundry hamper. A beard probably wouldn’t suit him. The one Nines had grown a few years back hadn’t looked good, and if there was one perk to having a twin it was getting to test out potential fashion choices via proxy without having to commit himself. 

Connor stuck his hand into the shower. Hot. Finally. He drew the curtain away and stepped inside, letting it pound against his shoulders and back. The routine of it all had been beaten into his very bones after years of repetition. He let habit take over and allowed his mind to drift.

Body wash, shampoo, conditioner. Steam filled the room and Connor pulled back the curtain once the water was off, happy that the tile beneath his feet had warmed up considerably since he had begun. He grabbed a towel and dried off. He let out a forlorn sigh when he realized that he hadn’t thought to lay out the day’s outfit the night before like he usually did. 

“Good start, Connor,” he mumbled, wrapping the towel under his arms. He sucked in a breath and opened the bathroom door. Gooseflesh immediately rippled down his bare, damp arms and legs. His teeth chattered. “G-Great thinking,” he hissed, power walking to his closet. “You’re on a r-roll today already.”

Without bothering to check colors or patterns, he grabbed the first pair of pants he could find. Down came a shirt next, then a jacket that he tossed onto his unmade bed. A quick stop by the dresser against the wall supplied an undershirt and the day’s underwear and— Goddammit, where were his socks? Connor rose up on his toes and peered inside the top dresser, frowning when his neatly balled up pairs of socks were nowhere in sight. He held his clothes to his chest with one arm and dug around with the other, pulling out boxers and briefs and— was that a binder? 

“I really need to go through this shit some time,” he muttered to himself, tossing the old binder to the floor to remind himself to weed out all of his pre-op supplies and donate it or something. He’d been so busy lately he hadn’t had much time to think about things like that, but it would be a good idea if he no longer needed them. But for right now, his priorities were limited. He shoved all of his underwear to the side and let out a quiet, “Finally,” when he spotted a single pair of black socks tucked into the corner. He snatched them up and shoved the drawer shut with his shoulder. With his clothing bundled in his arms and his teeth outright chattering, he sprinted back into the still-warm bathroom and closed the door behind him. 

Significantly more awake now, Connor dressed with renewed vigor. His fingers skimmed over the buttons on his shirt, and as the steam cleared from the mirror, he contemplated his hair, his face, and all he had to look forward to at work today. The first two were easier. A bit of pomade and some concealer had his appearance about as good as it was likely to get. The latter though… It was the start of a new year now. A new year necessitated new projects, new promises to the stockholders for projected growth and bonuses and all of that jazz. Connor drew his fingers through his artfully tousled curls and sighed. He could already imagine the stack of paperwork waiting on his desk for him. 

No sense in delaying the inevitable. He left his bathroom and grabbed his jacket from his bed. He draped the blazer over his arm, turned off the lights, and left his room behind. 

It was marginally warmer in the hallway that it had been in his room. Closed doors and blocked airflows, and all of that. Connor ran his hand along the wall, not bothering to turn on any lights. The place was big but not very cluttered, and he and Nines had called it home for long enough at this point that he knew this song and dance frontwards and back, even in the weak darkness of a winter morning.   

Nines’s door was closed as he walked past it. He paused for a beat when his hand skimmed over it. What were the odds that he was even home? Connor considered opening the door to check, but then thought better of it. The last time he’d done that he’d been greeted with the sight of Nines  _ and  _ the random stranger he’d brought home with him from the club. It wasn’t a good way to greet the morning, and it’d led to one of their louder arguments and both of them being late to work. 

Curling his hand into a fist, Connor kept walking. Living with his brother had its perks sometimes. He never had to eat dinner alone for one, and he always had another body in the house to make it feel less… massive than it actually was, but the downsides were… 

Connor wrinkled his nose, moving his hand to the railing that would help him navigate down the stairs. Nines’s life was his own. He could do what he wanted. It was his business, and Connor would leave it at that. 

It’d just be nice to eat breakfast with him every once and awhile. Maybe not have to worry about walking in on some poor guy’s walk of shame too, now that he thought about it...

Anyway. Breakfast. What was he doing for breakfast? Connor entered the kitchen and flicked on the light, taking in the stainless steel, the dishes on the counter by the sink, and the random assortment of papers, documents, and take-home paperwork they’d let get away from them over the course of the past week. They both had home offices upstairs, but more often than not they left things to pile up on the island instead. It didn’t make things conducive to cooking  _ or  _ responsible homework. 

So, in typical fashion Connor didn’t try to do much of either. He went over to the bread bin and pulled out the loaf— and immediately sighed. He eyed the thin package that he  _ knew  _ without even opening it contained just the heels of the loaf. Sometimes it was hard to believe they were both nearing thirty. 

“Damnit, Nines.” Bitterly, Connor opened the bag and shoved the subpar pieces of bread into the toaster. “Would it kill you to set out another to thaw for me?” he asked the toaster, imagining that the sound of the lever going down was a satisfying answer to his question. It wasn’t. Sometimes pretending was as good as he got this early in the morning. 

He leaned on the counter, every silent second tugging him back towards sleep. The toaster popping jolted him back to awareness though. Connor grabbed some peanut butter, grabbed some honey, and spread both on his toast in hopes of making the heels taste better than he knew they would. He pressed them together like a sandwich and held it in his mouth, freeing up his hands to sort through the papers and pack up his work bag. He zipped it up, chewed, swallowed his mouthful, and made for his keys. He shoved on some shoes and the blazer. 

Time to go to work.

The commute to work passed by in a sleepy, chilly haze of dark streets, slick roads, and the winter stillness that characterized the city in the hours before dawn really took root. Connor hated the hours he worked, and he hated the early mornings he was forced to suffer through for it, but if there was one silver lining to find in it all, it was in the fact that most of the Detroit traffic hadn’t woken up yet to make his drive to the office longer than it needed to be. 

He finished eating his breakfast on the way in, grimacing through the dry, unappealing texture and washing it all down with a bottle of water he’d left in the cupholder from the week before. His turn signal clicked at him as he turned into the underground parking garage attached to his building. A flash of his ID granted him entrance, and within a few minutes he was parked in his personal parking spot close to the elevator. 

A twist of the wrist killed the ignition. The hot air he’d blasted from the vents died with it, and Connor gave himself just a couple of minutes to sit and breathe and prepare. It was a new year. The first day of the new year, in fact, so he’d better make it a good one. 

With that in mind, he shouldered his back and sidled out of the car, locking it behind him with a dull click. It was chilly in the garage, but still warmer than it would be anywhere outside. He walked quickly to the elevator and used his key to bypass the usual locks on the buttons. He didn’t want to take any stairs today. He thumbed the button for the top floor and pulled out his key, exhaling as the elevator rattled to life and began to carry him to the executive offices. 

The offices were still largely dark when the elevator opened. It was barely seven in the morning, and most of the staff didn’t come in until nine. Connor flicked on the lights as he went, saving the janitors some time and effort on their morning rounds. Rows of bulky computers and cubicle walls ran in rows before him. He peered into a couple as he made his way through them, smiling softly at new photographs of children and grandchildren, at the quirky little posters and personal effects that his employees used to personalize their workspaces away from home. 

His own office didn’t really share those qualities. He turned on the light to his corner office and blinked blearily at the large, expansive space. A lot of people worked their whole lives for an office like this, the big kind that was high enough to overlook the city, the view unobscured by other larger, uglier buildings. There wasn’t much to see just yet though. It was too early in the day, the sky still too dark to be lit with anything but the orangish light pollution reflecting off the thick cloud cover above. 

Connor stared at it anyway for a few minutes, then pushed himself to shake off the haze of too little sleep and a full day’s work ahead. He walked around his desk and set his bag on the chair. The desktop itself was covered in carefully demarcated stacks of files and folders and business jargon still in need of his attention. He opened the case and pulled out the work he’d managed to do over the weekend, adding it to the rack that North would come for later. His personal assistant would see to it that it went to the proper place, freeing him from walking it down to the mailroom later.

A gentle knock drew his attention towards the door. Connor smiled a little and slipped his empty bag into the bottom drawer he had cleared specifically for it. “Speak of the devil,” he said smoothly, looking at North leaning against his door frame. “I was just thinking about you.”

Despite the early hour and relative deadness of the world around them, North looked perfectly coiffed and professional. Her blouse was ironed and pristine, and her pencil skirt was immaculate. The heels she wore were close to stilettos than pumps, sharp enough to kill a man, easily, and woefully against the corporate dress code, though Connor wouldn’t be the one to call her out on it. North could run, climb, and keep up better than anyone wearing flats in those, so he felt it just to let her have her way. 

She’d deigned today to put up her brown hair in a side braid, the tail draping over her shoulder. In her arms she held her clipboard. Connor’s eyes flicked towards it, already dreading his itinerary for the day. 

“Only good things, I’m sure,” she answered, raising a brow at his outgoing rack. Her lips curled into a flat line. “Is that all you got done this weekend? I know I sent you home with three times that.”

Connor rubbed guiltily at the back of his neck, shrugging. “Holidays,” he tried, knowing it wasn’t a great excuse either way. “I had that New Years mixer last night too. It took most of the day to get ready for it and by the time I got home I knew I wasn’t going to get anything else done.”

Humming, North pushed off the door frame and sauntered into the office properly. The sharp points of her heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floors. She began making notes on her clipboard. “Guess I can’t blame you for that.”

“What about you? You’re in pretty early.” Connor smiled wryly. “I figured I’d be the only one in before noon today.” Too many hangovers and holiday vacations— when it came to office workers, the first few days after a holiday were a breeding ground for late starts. 

North, however, simply rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a mirror of his own grin. “We both know I have nothing better to do than come in here and make the rest of you party animals look bad. Speaking of which…” Her smile turned positively gleeful. “Can I get you a coffee, sir? You look like you could use one.”

Connor laughed a little and let himself fall into his seat. God, he had a good chair. Leather and cushy with a high back that could recline a little. “No, thank you,” he sighed, drumming his fingers on the armrest. They had a cafe in-house located at the bottom of the building. They shared the space with some law firm, and it’d just made sense to spring for it all the long hours each business worked. He didn’t really want to send North down thirty flights just for a coffee. Hell, he was pretty sure the thing didn’t even open for another forty minutes anyway. “Just tell me what I’ve got to look forward to today. I’m sure that’ll put a pep in my step.” It always did. Not. 

When North snorted, Connor knew she had something nasty in store for him. God, Mondays could be such a chore. 

“Well, let’s see,” she began, licking her index finger and thumb as she lifted the first page away from her clipboard. “It’s still early, so the daily mail hasn’t come in just yet. Paperwork-wise, it’s still TBA. Schedule-wise, you have an early meeting with the board in about fifteen minutes.”

Connor opened his eyes—he’d had the inane thought of drifting off while she spoke, but clearly those dreams were not meant to be—and twisted in his chair until he faced her. “Excuse me?”

She peered at him from overtop the clipboard. “You have a board meeting in fifteen minutes. I left a message for you on your office and home phone to remind you.”

His mouth closed with a sharp click. “Ah.” Maybe it had been a bad idea to go to bed last night without first checking his messages. “I see.”

North lowered her notes. “Do you… want me to reschedule?”

“No, no,” he said immediately, waving the suggestion off. If they were supposed to meet in fifteen minutes it meant his advisors had already arrived. Some of them had to drive in from across the city, and there was no way he was about to turn them away after braving the ice and cold this early in the morning. With a sharp inhale and a second of mental bracing, Connor forced himself to get out of his comfortable chair. “Just tell me what the agenda is.” 

He eyed the clock on the far wall, nestled between a potted plant he never watered and the business and engineering degrees North had strong-armed him into hanging up. “Actually,” he said, cutting her off before she could begin. “Talk while you walk with me.” There probably wasn’t enough time to be briefed  _ and  _ get to the meeting room otherwise.

They moved towards the door, North just a step behind. “From what I’ve been briefed on, the meeting is to go over the current projects still in development and their estimated time of completion,” North rattled off, thumbing through her notes. “There was some interest in the new tech improvements you and your brother have been teasing ever since last summer, some suggestions for implementing new business models that might be better suited to pushing those over the ones you use currently for your software, and then just some general discussion they wish to have regarding plans for the new year and general shop talk and upkeep. All pretty routine.”

Connor turned a corner and eyed the closed wooden door at the far end of the hall where all of their conference and meeting rooms were located. “Sounds easy enough,” he figured, eyeing the last one. It was the only one with a thin strip of light showing beneath the door. He glanced at North. “I should be able to handle this myself. Do you have a copy of the meeting no— Ah, thanks.” 

North’s lips curled into a wry smile as he took the proffered packet of paper, neatly stapled and already marked up with highlighter. “Knock them dead, boss.”

He laughed a little, bolstered by her composure. “I’ll do my best.” 

With that said, he clutched his notes against his chest and pushed through the door, leaving North at the door. 

Just as he’d thought, the room was already occupied. The board wasn’t comprised of many people, just a few who had invested in the early days or been involved with his parents in their own ventures before shifting to assist them when Nines had sold him on the idea of starting their own company just a week or two after the funeral. Connor met each set of eyes steadily, smiling that firm, carefully shaped smile he’d grown so used to employing while at work. He owed these people a lot for getting him where he was today. 

Still, he knew if he showed too much weakness they’d dive in to steal the rug out from under his feet before he even had a chance to blink. 

For the most part it didn’t look as if the two already seated had been waiting for too long. Both were engrossed in either the papers in front of them or with their pagers, probably silencing them in preparation for the meeting. Connor met their eyes briefly and slipped into his seat at the head of the table. 

“Sorry for the wait,” he began, setting his notes down in front of him and met eyes with the elderly man sitting immediately to his left. “It’s good to see you again, Isaac. How was the drive in? I heard on the radio that the lake effect was worse up where you are.”

Isaac set down his stapled briefing and grimaced, the expression a well known phenomenon to each and every one of them at one point or another. He lifted a wrinkled hand and kneaded at his eyes beneath his glasses. “Well, God didn’t see fit to send me off the road, so I’d say it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You’ll have to take a trip up to the house sometime so you can see the drifts. It’ll be up to our knees by next week, mark my words.”

The woman a little further along the table laughed at that, slipping her pager back inside her purse. She looked towards them, and Connor gave her a smile too. “I’m sure your grandchildren love it,” Angela offered, tucking a lock of faded blond hair behind her ear. “I know Lizzy’s kids can’t get enough of it. They missed almost a full week before the holiday break hit.”

“The perks of Michigan winters,” Connor figured, relaxing a little into his seat. He looked further along the table and frowned a little. “Is Dalton not joining us today? Or Satoshi?” 

Isaac frowned. “Last I heard Dalton was coming,” he reported, glancing at his expensive wristwatch. “As for Satoshi, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Isn’t he visiting family in Kyoto?” Angela asked. “I think his daughter-in-law gave birth back in December.”

Connor hummed. “I think I remember seeing an email about that,” he said, making a note on the top sheet to have North type of a summary later on for him. That done, he glanced at Isaac’s watch, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Well, it’s nearly eight. Should we go ahead and start? We can always catch Dalton up if he comes in later.”

Angela and Isaac shared a quick look, then glanced at the empty seat to the right of Connor. Isaac cleared his throat, posing, “That’s fine, but what about Keenan? Will he be joining us today?”

It was a testament to how tired Connor was that he didn’t understand the question at first. He stared at Isaac blankly until it hit him that he meant Nines. Connor shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not sure. He didn’t say he wouldn’t, so…”

They both shared a knowing sigh. “But he didn’t say he would, right?” finished Angela, tapping her pen against the stack of papers in front of her. 

Connor’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just move on and I’ll fill my brother in whenever I see him next. What’s our first order of business today?”

Isaac ran a hand down his salt and pepper beard and sucked on his teeth. “Well, we had wanted to talk about what progress has been like on the new model R&D’s been teasing us with for the past month.”

Connor winced. North had said that before, hadn’t she? Dammit. Nines ran R&D and had a terrible habit of refusing to write down his progress reports. He’d give them in person or not at all, and unfortunately for everyone gathered, they hadn’t had the forethought to grab his assistant to report for him in his stead. Was there time to grab her? No, it’d take another half hour to hunt Nyssa down and even longer to get her prepped for something like this. Connor wondered if today was just doomed to be a bad day from the start. “I guess that leaves us with our second order of business then.”

“I suppose it does,” Isaac frowned, the disappointment written in every line of his aged face. 

For some reason, that rubbed Connor the wrong way. He stamped down the flicker of irritation and cleared his throat. “So,” he led, gesturing at Isaac’s notes. “What do you have for me?”

Isaac shifted his glasses down his nose. He flipped through some of his notes, eyes running down the pages and his frown growing a bit more pronounced with every sheet he discarded. Connor swallowed, averting his eyes. It was Nines’s responsibility to answer R&D questions. Keeping the board up to date was a joint effort. He shouldn’t feel guilty that Isaac and Angela would leave here with most of their questions unanswered. 

After laying aside five full pages, Isaac finally paused on the last one. “I went on a retreat before Christmas and found a few more potential investors,” he said, that frown finally curving into a smile. He lay the page flat on the table and slid it over to Connor. “A lot of the people I spoke to deal in the tech sector, both foreign and domestically, and when I spoke about you and your brother’s projects, it impressed more than a few of them.”

“Really?” Connor looked over the list of names eagerly. A few stuck out to him, but the vast majority didn’t. “That’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Angela leaned in, resting her chin on her propped up hand. She smiled brightly and said, “I think we’re in for a lot more growth this quarter if you can manage to impress these people.” She glanced towards Isaac. “Are we going to go the usual route with them then? Invite them in for tours? Maybe a presentation luncheon to schmooze?”

“Actually, a few of them wanted to meet with Connor personally,” Isaac countered, leaning forward in his seat. “You know how we older folks are, we like a more personal touch when it comes to coaxing us into opening our pocketbooks.”

Connor lowered the sheet of names, flushing. “Well, I’m sure we can make that happen. You gave them my office information, right? I can have North set up some lunch meetings or something.” He’d need to make sure it worked with Nines’s schedule too, of course. He couldn’t very well sell a stranger on the company without having the chief project manager there to dazzle them with the bells and whistles they’d be paying for. He’d done his best last night to do it on his own, but it was always so much easier with Nines at his side to help. 

Speaking of which.

“I think either way we should schedule a general presentation for interested investors,” he suggested, drumming his fingers on the notes beneath his hand. “I spoke with a lot of people last night and there were some groups who seemed like they wanted to hear some more about what all we have to offer here.”

“Oh?” Angela perked up a bit. “Did you get any names or cards?” She looked towards Isaac. “I heard the Lambert group was attending. Every year that mixer gets ritzier and ritzier. I can’t even imagine who’ll be on the guest list next year.”

“Well, I don’t know about the Lamberts, but I met a few people here and there. I spoke to a woman named Lucretia.” Connor stalled his drumming and frowned. “She told me her boss would be interested in working with us, but I didn’t get the chance to speak to him.” Thank God. “I don’t know if Nines spoke to anyone, but there was an Elijah Kamski who seemed very interested as well.”

The room stilled. Angela’s elbow slipped off the edge of the table, and Isaac dropped the pen he’d been in the middle of picking up. It clattered onto the table. 

Isaac blinked. “Excuse me?” 

“It’s… Kamski?” Connor repeated, looking at each of his advisors in turn as they stared back at him. “Elijah Kamski? I met him at the mixer. He said he’d be in contact…”

“Did he?” Angela asked, tone clipped, spine almost painfully straight. 

“Did he what?” 

“Contact you,” Isaac finished. He gripped the edge of the table tightly. 

Fidgeting, Connor shrugged, dropping his hands into his lap. “Um. Maybe. He actually might have left a message—” He cut himself off. He was getting ahead of himself. He dropped his hand to the table and frowned at the papers in front of him, hating how his ears were beginning to burn. What was he, some desperate loser after a first date? It’d barely been two days since the party. Hell, it wasn’t even eight a.m. on a Monday. Had he expected Elijah to call on a Sunday?

Clearing his throat, he lifted his head. “North didn’t say I had any messages, but I also only just got in. I’m expecting to hear from him at some point. He was definitely very interested in seeing me...” He kicked himself, closing his eyes briefly to center himself. “To talk about the business some more,” he added. “That’s all.”

Angela shared a look with Isaac. Isaac paled.  

“What?” Connor asked, looking between them. “What’s that look for?”

Both of them immediately sat up straight, putting on their best disaffected faces. Angela smiled warmly and shook her head. “Nothing, nothing,” she assured him, waving him off before moving to fix her hair self-consciously. “It’s just… that name. Elijah Kamski, he’s…”

“He’s a very important man, Connor,” Isaac said tightly. “Are you sure he seemed interested?”

Connor furrowed his brow. “I don’t know what else to call it.” They’d practically talked all night, and he’d even brushed off that conference call to stay with him. 

Again, both of them shared a look Connor couldn’t read. Angela pursed her lips and slowly turned to face Connor. “I think,” she said slowly, “that you should make it a priority to get in touch with him if you’re able, Connor.”

“Well, I had planned on it—”

“No,” Isaac interjected. “Not just the typical investor pitch. You need to keep him interested.”

What? Connor sat up a little straighter. “It’s not like I wasn’t going to try.” Hell, he’d barely tried last night and Elijah had still gone out of his way to prolong the conversation. “What’s going on with you two? Who is he? I’ve never heard of him before last night and you’re making him sound like he’s the Queen of England or something.”

Angela started, “He’s—”

“He’s someone important, Connor,” Isaac took over, shooting Angela an odd look. “Someone very, very important. Why he was even at that mixer, I couldn’t tell you. To think he was there…” He shook his head, mystified. “It’s like winning the lottery.”

“Which is why it’s so important for you to approach this carefully,” Angela said, picking up the thread Isaac had put down. She reached over and covered Connor’s hand with her own. Her wedding ring glinted brightly on her finger. Her husband had passed away years ago but she still wore it. “He’s the sort of man who could do great things for your family. Your business too.”

Connor looked at her hand over his and then back up at her. “Alright,” he said slowly. This was… odd, to say the least. “I’ll be sure to work hard to keep his interest in that case.”

“It’s not just his interest you need to keep,” Isaac said firmly. “You need to impress him too.”

“What does that mean?” Connor retracted his hand out from under Angela’s, frowning. “You know this isn’t my first time wining and dining a potential investor, right? I think I know how to present myself properly.”

Isaac grimaced a little. “It just means that we must be very careful about how we handle him. I know you’ve come far since you first struck out on your own.”

“We trust you,” Angela inserted. “We know you’re capable, but it’s just… this is  _ important, _ you see?”

Oh. It was  _ important.  _ Of course. Connor narrowed his eyes. 

“It doesn’t sound like you trust me,” he countered. “You are aware that I managed to get him interested without even knowing who he was, right? I’m pretty sure I can keep him interested without looking desperate or whatever it is you think I’ll do to scare him away.” He slouched in his seat and crossed his arms, glaring off at the wall. He didn’t feel his age right now, but he didn’t really care. It was too early in the morning for this. “Thank you by the way for the vote of confidence though. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t be like that, Connor. We just want what’s best for you and your brother,” Isaac pressed, his voice taking on that tone that gave Connor the distinctly unpleasant feeling that he was being patronized. “There are several things you and Keenan aren’t old enough or business savvy enough to have learned yet, and it’s our job to make sure that you make the best decisions you can make—” 

A loud beep cut off Isaac mid-word. He sputtered into silence, and Connor reached for his beeper instinctively, as did every other person in the room. With a bit of fumbling, Connor realized it was his. The number on the screen was familiar. Painfully familiar in a way that only family could be. 

“It’s my brother,” he sighed, mouth tense and tone terse. “I think we’ll call this a good stopping point for the moment. Forward your R&D questions to me and I’ll pass them along to Ni—” Damnit. “To Keenan once he’s in.” 

“Connor, I’m not finished—”

Summoning up all of his remaining patience, Connor fixed Isaac with a firm smile. “I think we are actually. If you have more questions for my brother, though, you can feel free to ask him once he’s in.”

There was a pause. The air grew heavy beneath the weight of Connor’s frustration. “Do you have any estimation when that might be?” Angela asked delicately. She glanced towards Isaac, but only for a moment. “I know we’d both very much like to talk to him about all of this.”

Connor resisted the urge to laugh at that. If they thought Nines would be any easier to strong-arm, they were definitely in for a surprise. A beep from the home number meant Nines had finally woken up and realized he was late for work. It’d take maybe forty-five minutes to send a car to pick him up and bring him here, though that was operating under the assumption that Nines was showered, dressed, and sober already. Connor didn’t like those odds. 

“I’ll have him contact you by noon.” That was at least realistic. 

Angela pursed her lips and Isaac let out a ghost of a sigh, bobbing his head as he began to stack up his notes. Connor did the same and stood up, leaving the room ahead of them before Isaac could take him by the shoulder to give him another sternly delivered lecture disguised as professional concern. Clearly, they weren’t pleased with realism. 

North was waiting just outside the door. She fell into step with him easily, a clipboard in hand and her pen at the ready.

“You have two missed calls and several faxes waiting for you at your desk,” she rattled off, knowing that he preferred directness over small talk, especially after meetings with the board. “There is a meeting scheduled with a Markus Manfred from Jericho Incorporated at ten via tele-conference, and a routine division head check-in with all departments after your lunch.”

Connor bobbed his head and rolled into his office. He spared a short glance out the floor-length window. It was still dark, the city only just beginning to wake up to the cold, blustery pre-dawn of a new year. “Sounds easy enough,” he said, breaking away to address North. “Please call a car and have it head to my place as soon as you can make it happen. My brother needs a ride and definitely needs to be here for those check-ins.”

North made a note on her clipboard. “Will do. Is there anything else I can do for you?” With any luck she’d have Nines dressed and in R&D with plenty of time to spare. She was good like that. 

“You know what?” he decided. He dropped the stack of papers next to the other stacks of papers hiding the polished surface of his desk from view. “I think I will have that coffee after all.”

“Right away, Mr. Arkay.”

Connor didn’t bother to watch her disappear out the door. He merely flopped into his chair and rested his head heavily on the headrest. His head buzzed with the implications of his meeting and the promise of so much more to come. It was never a good thing when your advisors knew things you didn’t. It left so much up to chance, and Connor really couldn’t say he wanted any part of that. 

He looked at the blinking red light on his phone. Two new messages. He forced himself to sit up straight and pick up the receiver.  

It was a new year, after all. Best he get on with it sooner rather than later. 


	3. Chapter 3

The first week of the new year slogged by in a haze and flurry of meetings, project approvals, and far too many late nights. It was always a point of great speculation for Connor as to why his productivity always took such a dip following a major holiday. He knew well enough that sometimes it took time to get back into the rhythm of things, but he wasn’t in the habit of getting  _ out  _ of the rhythm to begin with. Holidays were almost always spent working in between the festivities and parties. Why the hell was it taking him so long to bounce back now? 

No matter how many ways he sliced it, it just wasn’t fair. 

Connor set down the receiver in its cradle and rubbed tiredly at his eyes, resisting the urge to faceplant into his mess of a desk and call it a night then and there. Instead of giving in and slamming down his head, he settled on slowly lowering it to rest on a stack of papers. They made for a poor pillow. Whatever. It was better than nothing. 

He closed his eyes and frowned. Figures and numbers danced behind his eyes, his brain refusing to ease up. On some level he was proud of himself. He’d slogged through a lot today, approving this, double-checking progress on that. Add in a few meetings and several dozen contract approvals and he could consider it a productive day. 

His sigh caught on a few stray pages, rustling them near his lips. It had been productive, despite his general sluggishness. Sometimes it was hard to keep things in perspective. He needed to go easier on himself.

A gentle rap on the door frame coaxed him to open his eyes. He tilted his head towards the door, managing a weak smile when he saw North standing in the threshold. 

Despite it being nearly nine, North looked as put together now as she had at eight that morning. The only concession she’d made to account for the late hour was that her neat blazer was unbuttoned. The blouse beneath maybe sported a few wrinkles, but then again, maybe Connor was just projecting. He lifted his head and blinked tiredly at her. It was a testament to their long working relationship that she could read him well enough to know what he was too tired to say. She rolled her eyes and sighed, setting down the open notebook and sliding it across his desk to rest just within his line of sight.

“You had a few calls just come in. Figured you’d wanna look at them yourself before I call it a night.”

Connor withheld a groan. With monumental effort he leveraged an arm beneath him, shoving himself upright. He dragged the notebook closer, skimming over North’s small, cramped cursive. It’d taken him nearly a year to learn how to read it, and he very seriously considered updating his resume with the skill. Foreign language: North’s chicken-scratch. Given the fact that the possibility of her usurping him was very real, it’d probably turn out to be a very marketable skill one of these days.

“Mr. Arkay?”

Connor snapped himself out of his reverie and looked at North. “Yeah?”

She cracked a smile. “Do you want me to patch him through then?”

“Patch who through?”

North full on grinned. “It looked like you had zoned out. Did you read the last bullet point yet?”

Connor looked down at the notebook, actually reading it this time. A few last-minute meeting updates from foreign investors, a notice that someone in Nines’s department was quitting, delaying a project. He reached the last bullet point and froze. His mouth went dry, and his heart began to pound loudly between his ears.

_ Elijah Kamski – line four. _

“So,” North said with a calmness that didn’t really feel appropriate given the weight of what was happening. She leaned against Connor’s desk, one hand on the wood while the other rested on her hip. “You want me to patch him through then?”

It took two attempts to find the moisture in his mouth required to make words. After clearing his throat, he managed to say, “Yes, North. Put him through.”

Perhaps it’d been a mistake to confide in her about Elijah. North grinned like a shark and pushed away from his desk, sauntering back towards the door as if this development had given her renewed energy after a too-long day at the office. “Right away, boss,” she said, disappearing through the door. Connor counted himself fortunate she didn’t punctuate it with a knowing wink.

With her gone, he felt a new sort of energy enter him as well. Namely, panic. It certainly wasn’t a logical feeling to feel, but still, he felt it. It tingled in his limbs and made him want to get up and pace, all exhaustion forgotten in the wake of waiting for the phone to ring. He eyed it like one might a poisonous snake. What would Elijah say when he picked up? Would he be professional or that eccentric sort of strange he’d been at the party? Would he—

The phone began to ring, and suddenly Connor had no more time to wonder.

He grabbed the receiver without hesitation, knowing he’d let it ring itself into his voicemail if he let himself take another moment to think about it. He sucked in a bracing, calming breath and put the phone to his ear. 

“Connor Arkay,” he delivered, congratulating himself on sounding normal, almost composed.

All of that composure left him when the voice on the other end murmured, “Good evening, Connor.”

The entire week’s stress rushed through him like a stiff breeze, percolating through his being and flowing out in the next instant. Connor’s vision went blurry— he was back on that balcony, the thrill of falling still alive and well in his hammering heart. Connor exhaled shakily. He cracked a smile and sat back in his seat. A week. It’d been a week since he’d last heard this voice, and somehow it felt like an eternity wrapped in a moment all at once. 

It was strange and weird and not at all off-putting, which Connor figured described the man on the phone about as well as anything ever could. 

“Mr. Kamski,” he returned, some measure of composure coming back to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His gaze flicked towards the clock. “It’s a little late for business, isn’t it?”

“Only if you constrain yourself to such things. I’m simply making good on the promise I made at New Year’s. I was very intrigued by the conversation we had and would like to continue it if you’re free.” 

Connor smiled, a ripple of pride rising up at the words. Isaac and Angela had been so worried, hadn’t they? So positive he’d have to try so hard to keep a man like Elijah Kamski interested. He rolled his eyes and savored the moment. They really had underestimated him.  _ Again.  _

Reaching for a pen, Connor pulled a spare notebook close and perched it on the arm of his chair. “I think I’d like that,” he said, because he really, really would. Embarrassing as it was to admit, he’d struggled to stay patient for this very offer to come his way. “When did you have in mind? I can have my secretary look up my schedule if you’re free next week at all.”

Elijah’s laugh was a warm, indulgent thing. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’ve already seen to making the arrangements on my end. Are you finished for the day? I was thinking we might talk somewhere comfortable, perhaps have a bite to eat.”

The pen slipped through Connor’s fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. “A… bite to eat?” He paused, comprehension sinking in. He stared down at his blank notepad and slowly moved it back onto the desk. “Dinner.” Connor could hardly believe it. “You’re… calling to invite me to dinner?”

Elijah’s voice was a smile through the line. “Yes. Are you free?”

Connor looked at the clock on the wall again. It hadn’t magically rewound four hours to make it an acceptable time for an offer like that to be made. He looked out the window at the sky just to be absolutely sure, then pulled a face when it stayed dark. “Now?”

“Have you eaten already?”

Of course, Connor’s stomach grumbled at that. He blushed, thankful no one was there to see it. “No,” he said ruefully. Things had been too hectic for him to have much more today than a ten-minute lunch at his desk. “I haven’t.

“Excellent. There is a car parked at the entrance of your building to collect you.”

“Wh—” Connor stood up, illogically looking out his window as if he might spot the car in question from thirty stories up and on the opposite side of the building from the entrance. “You’re already here?”

Elijah laughed, and Connor blushed all the darker for it. “Take your time. The night is long and I’m in no rush.”

Connor fumbled for his bag, nearly dragging the phone off the desk when the cord pulled taut and tried to come with him. “I’ll be down in five minutes,” he blustered, scrambling for his take-home files.

“Of course, Connor. I look forward to it.”

The call ended and Connor all but threw the phone back on the hook. He shoved his things into his bag, powered down his computer at record speed, and left without turning off the lights. “North,” he called out, power walking over to her desk as he shoved his arms into his coat sleeves. North looked up, already smiling that knowing look of hers. Connor pushed through the embarrassment, somehow. “I have to go. Can you call Nines and let him know he can head home without me? Tell him I’m… going out for a bit, and to take the car. I’ll get my own ride home.”

“Of course, Mr. Arkay,” she said, already reaching for her phone. She held the receiver between her cheek and shoulder, eyeing him as she dialed Nines’s extension. “Would you like me to close up your office too?”

Connor nodded. “Thank you, North. Go home once you’re done too. If I’m not here, you definitely don’t need to be here either.”

“Already ahead of you,” she said, nodding towards her neatly packed bag. She shot him a smile and leaned back in her seat, no doubt waiting for Nines to pick up his office phone. “Enjoy your evening, boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, cheeks warm. He pushed away from her desk and hitched his bag higher. “See you Monday.”

The main offices were dark as he cut through them to reach the elevator. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, their monitors powered down and cubicles empty but for the low lights that stayed on for the cleaning crews’ benefit. Connor moved at a swift clip, debating the elevator versus taking the stairs. He’d told Elijah he’d be five minutes, but realistically it’d take longer to call the lift up and then take it back down. 

Of course, taking the stairs meant taking the stairs. Connor scoffed at the idea and hit the call button, crossing his arms as he waited for it to arrive. Elijah had been ready to wait in the car for him to finish his work. He could stand to wait ten minutes, right? The elevator dinged as it reached his floor. He twisted the strap of his bag and stepped inside. He felt nervous energy flicker to life in the pit of his stomach. He punched the button to the lobby floor and told himself to get it together. 

But in typical fashion, he realized approximately two minutes into the five-minute ride down to the lobby that taking the elevator had in fact been a mistake. It gave him time to think, something he absolutely didn’t need right now. He frowned at the lit floor numbers above his head, Isaac’s voice reverberating in his skull like a mantra. Should he have called them first before accepting Elijah’s offer? He had a feeling they wouldn’t be happy with him for this, especially after all those warnings they’d given him…

No, no, they had wanted him to appeal to Elijah, hadn’t they? He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, nodding to no one as the elevator chimed and opened on the dark lobby floor. He’d just call them tomorrow and tell them. It wasn’t as if calling them now would change much. They’d probably just inundate him with more baseless warnings and drive his nerves up the wall even more than they already were.

Connor cut through the lobby and nodded at the night shift guard set up at the only lit desk in sight. The man nodded back at him and returned to his book a moment later. Connor hitched his bag higher and made for the door, closing his coat with his other hand as the cold, wintry air stung his cheeks the moment he stepped outside. The streets were fairly quiet. Butterflies rustled in his empty stomach, adding to the goosebumps speckling his skin beneath his sleeves.

There indeed was a car pulled up in front of the building. It was sleek, expensive looking, and black as the night around it. Connor held his bag close to his side and approached, eyes widening minutely when the driver’s side door opened and out came a hulking figure that towered far above the car. For a moment, Connor wondered how someone so big could even fit inside, but the thought evaporated as the figure turned towards him expectantly.

“Mr. Arkay,” she called out, addressing him formally with one hand tucked behind her back and the other reaching for the rear door. She opened it and gestured for him to get inside. “After you.”

With the streetlights shining in full force here, Connor could see the sharpness of the driver’s eyes, the bulk of muscles lying in wait beneath the fabric of her impeccably pressed black suit. Her hair was a dark, dark chestnut and was long, long enough to trail down her back to nearly her waist in a pristine braid. It swayed like a pendulum as she bent over to hold onto the door. Connor swallowed and nodded to her, ducking into the car without a word. He had a feeling she wasn’t simply a driver. 

Not with muscles and a presence like that, at least. 

The inside of the car was dark, charcoal leather and wood paneling. Connor blinked a little, his eyes adjusting to the sudden dark. He could see the shape of what had to be Elijah just beside him. The driver’s door shut with a snap through the partition separating the front seats from the rear. Connor tried not to jump at the sound. He unwound his bag from his shoulder and settled it on the floor at his feet, then turned to face his prospective date for the evening.

Of course, this wasn’t a date. This was just dinner with a prospective business partner. Not a date. 

Connor swallowed. Absolutely not a date.

“Good evening,” Elijah began as the car pulled away from the curb. Street lights streamed by in even bursts, illuminating him in flickering flashes that were just frequent enough to give Connor an idea of what he wore: an expensive suit beneath a tailored peacoat, a pale grey tie, and a soot black scarf draped artfully around his neck. Elijah smiled, his white teeth glinting in the uneven light. “Thank you for joining me. I know it’s rather short notice, but I appreciate you indulging me.”

Connor tried to smooth down his hair as nonchalantly as he could. In the wake of Elijah’s sleek appearance, he felt every single hour of the twelve he’d spent behind his desk today, and if he’d cared to stop in the bathroom before coming down, he was sure he’d find his suit rumpled and wrinkled, his hair sticking up in unfortunately untamed curls, and his face blotchy and tired. 

“Yeah, well,” he began, shrugging his shoulders helplessly, “I can’t say I expected this to be how my evening went, but I’m not going to complain. It’s good to see you again.” He paused, biting his lip and letting his hand fall into his lap. “I, uh… I was looking forward to your call. I enjoyed our conversation a lot at the mixer too.”

Elijah’s eyes widened a little. He seemed… pleased. Happily surprised, even. He looked away and cleared his throat, tapping at his knee with the tips of his fingers. “That’s good to hear. I don’t usually find someone at those sorts of events capable of making the experience worth the effort of attending. You were… a breath of fresh air.” He calmed his fidgeting and turned to face Connor. He smiled, closed-lipped but sincere. “I would have contacted you earlier this week to meet up, but as you can imagine, a new year brings with it new workloads.”

Connor let out a relieved laugh. “God, I know that feeling. The whole week has been insane.” He crossed his legs and leaned forward a little, hands gesturing in the darkness of the car. “It’s just been one meeting after the next. I can’t even remember the last time I went home before nine.”

“Exactly.” Elijah folded his hands in his lap, his smile easy and warm. “I figured if your week had been anything like mine, you might enjoy a change in scenery. I never did like confining things to the office when they could be had more pleasurably elsewhere.”

“So, that’s why you wanted to take me to dinner?” Connor guessed, the nervous energy bleeding out of him until it was as if it’d never been there to begin with. He eased into the comfortable leather seats and smiled. “That’s really thoughtful. I appreciate it.”

The conversation eased into a comfortable silence. The city rushed by in bursts of light and color, lit up in the dark and shining brightly off the snow coating the streets and buildings. Connor watched it for a few minutes, and then watched Elijah when he felt he could get away with it. This was definitely out of the norm when it came to meetings, but that didn’t make it a bad thing. If anything, it was a nice change of pace.

Before long the car slowed to a stop next to the curb on Elijah’s side. The engine turned off, and as Connor reached for his door, Elijah held up a hand and smiled. Connor blinked as Elijah waited. The driver exited the vehicle— Oh. Connor fidgeted, not used to having people open doors for him. Elijah’s door opened and he slipped out of the car. Connor scooted towards the open door, leaving his bag behind. 

“Thank you, Ares,” Elijah said smoothly, holding out a hand for Connor to take so he could help him out of the car. Connor took it despite knowing he didn’t need the help, and he fought back a shiver at the cool, smooth strength in Elijah’s grip as he lifted him without any visible effort. Connor stood on the sidewalk and looked around curiously, Elijah’s hand still holding his, the other resting on his lower back to guide him towards the restaurant in front of them. 

The door of the car closed behind them. Connor glanced back and caught the driver, Ares, watching them avidly. She stood so still, her hands folded in front of her, one hand gripping the other wrist. It was a familiar sort of pose, one Connor had seen numerous times lining the rooms of galas and important events boasting important people. She stood like a bodyguard, and a competent one at that. 

“That’ll be all,” Elijah’s voice delivered, tearing Connor back to the present. He looked up and saw Elijah had turned back too to address Ares. “I take it you can entertain yourself until we’re done?”

Ares didn’t smile visibly, but something about her eyes gave Connor the impression that she found that humorous. She nodded her head, the tail of her braid brushing her arm as she moved back towards the driver’s seat. Connor didn’t watch her get back in; Elijah was guiding him forward, so he turned away, more than certain that his attention would serve him better in this direction. 

The restaurant boasted a name he’d only recognized from the society pages he tried to ignore while skimming through the morning paper during his lunch break.  _ Andiamo  _ was about as classically Italian as one could get short of hopping on a plane to Sicily, and Connor knew more about the rumors than the food it served. He’d joked to Nines before about coming here and rubbing elbows with Detroit’s old mob elite, and Nines had replied that doing that would involve them actually going out and not just ordering in like they usually did. They’d laughed about it, regretted their deplorable eating habits, and left it at that. 

Either way, this really wasn’t the sort of place to bring a prospective business partner. Connor glanced over at the man looping his arm through his own. Elijah was facing forward, practically escorting him towards the front entrance. 

Connor chewed the inside of his cheek when Elijah moved behind him to help him out of his coat. He was beginning to suspect that he was on a date with Elijah Kamski. 

There wasn’t much time to ruminate on it before they were inside. Connor, despite his sudden trepidation, relaxed instinctively as the scent of warm, fresh bread and heady garlic washed over him in a heady wave. Soft music played in the background, and the sound of silverware clinked delicately beneath it all, adding a spot of normalcy to a situation that was rapidly moving into unfamiliar territory. 

The decor was understated but classy, shaped in soft reds and warm woods. The maitre’d greeted them effusively, his hands fluttering through the air as he spoke. He knew Elijah without being told his name, and he seated them at their table— a small two person affair well removed from the other diners speckling the main dining area. A candle sat in the middle of the table like a beacon. Connor moved towards it with Elijah’s hand on his lower back, guiding him every step of the way. 

“Can I bring you something to drink?” the server asked after Elijah held out Connor’s seat for him and joined him across the table. She was soft-spoken and polite, her sharp black vest and white undershirt so classic that it suited the atmosphere perfectly. She looked to Elijah when she asked. Connor didn’t blame her for it. He probably looked a bit lost right now, all things considered.

Elijah ordered some wine that Connor couldn’t pronounce the name of. While he chatted with the server, Connor looked down at the thin menu posed beneath the small appetizer plate that had been set in front of him. 

“Sir?”

Connor looked up, blinking in surprise. Elijah and the server both were watching him expectantly.

“Um. Sorry, can you repeat that?” he mumbled, growing a little warm. 

“Would you like a minute to look over the menu?” the server asked politely, clearly not minding his lapse in concentration. 

“Oh. Um.” Connor looked down at the menu. He wasn’t a picky eater. He skimmed quickly and paused when he came to a bit of calligraphy that boasted  _ Ossobuco alla Milanese.  _ His mouth watered, so he lifted his head and rattled off the name, proud that he still knew enough survival Italian to deliver the pronunciation with passable grace. He passed the menu to the server, and looked at Elijah expectantly.

Instead of Elijah looking at his own menu, he simply handed it off as well with a smile. “I think that will be all,” he murmured. Connor frowned. 

The server bowed and walked away. Neither of them bothered to watch her go. 

“Are you going to order something too?” Connor asked lightly. He’d met his fair share of eccentric millionaires, and one of the first things he’d learned was not to make a fuss if one of them acted outside the bounds of typical human behavior. Some people didn’t eat around others, while others didn’t eat at all. “It’s not really sharing dinner together if…” 

He trailed off as another member of the waitstaff approached, a bucket of ice in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Connor smiled tersely at the man as they watched him open the bottle and pour Connor a glass. When he moved to fill Elijah’s, Elijah waved him off with a shake of the head. If the sommelier found that odd, he of course kept it to himself. He placed the bottle into the ice bucket and bowed before taking his leave. 

“You were saying something?” Elijah prompted, acting as if it wasn’t strange to order a full bottle of wine for an acquaintance without having any himself. 

Connor took a shallow sip from the wine and rolled it around his mouth before swallowing. Of course, while Elijah was eccentric, he didn’t have the air about him of someone consumed with concerns of how others perceived them. “I was just saying that it’s a little strange.” 

Elijah certainly didn’t seem to care that he had asked. He sat with his chin propped up on his closed fist, eyes picking up the gentle candlelight until they glittered with notes of grey and blue. “I’m alright for the moment,” he said easily. “Please don’t hold back on my account.”

Connor tapped his fingers against the base of his wine glass. “You wanted to come to a restaurant to talk. Shouldn’t you eat too?”

“You’re operating under the assumption that I did this for me,” Elijah countered breezily, lacing his fingers in front of him. He looked almost obnoxiously casual, as if nothing he did could ever be considered out of the ordinary or worthy of comment at all. 

Connor raised a brow. “Who did you do it for then?”

“You.”

His fingers stilled against the chilled glass. Connor gripped the stem and cleared his throat. “Me?”

Elijah smiled, and that was answer enough.

Their original server came by then with bread that Connor reluctantly tore into, and that proved the end of the conversation for the time being. Just as he’d thought coming in, it tasted fresh and absolutely perfect. Elijah watched him eat, but it wasn’t awkward. He offered light conversation about Connor’s day, his own, the weather… By the time Connor’s meal came things were relaxed again. Connor looked down at his plate of bone and meat and risotto and didn’t think twice about helping himself to it. It tasted good, and clearly Elijah didn’t mind being the odd one out. 

“How’s the food?”

Chewing, Connor swallowed his mouthful and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin. “Amazing,” he admitted. “I haven’t had anything this good since I was in Italy.”

Elijah’s eyes widened a little. “Oh? When were you last there?”

“My brother and I took a trip around the country after we graduated university.” He smiled then, recalling the good food, the warm weather, and how excited they’d both been to stuff themselves silly with everything in sight. “I think we ate ourselves half to death while we were there. This brings back good memories. Have you ever been?”

Over the course of Connor’s dinner, Elijah had slowly begun to relax into his chair. He was artfully slouched now, arms loosely crossed in front of him. From anyone else it might look impatient, but Connor could only read contentment in the way he sat. “Oh,” he said wistfully, casting his gaze off towards an empty table that still had its candles lit. “A time or two, long ago. I had some friends who lived there, but not anymore. They—” 

Elijah stopped short and his smile fell a little at the edges. He cleared his throat, and then his usual calm, cool mask was back as he rolled his head around and fixed his steely stare on Connor once more. “It’s a beautiful country. The scent of this place reminds me of it. Not… Not many places these days are capable of that. It’s a favorite of mine, and I’m glad you were willing to come here with me tonight.”

Huh. There was a lot he wasn’t saying in all of that. It was almost… sad, the way Elijah stared at the flickering light of their candle, the bread in the basket, the remaining food on his plate. Connor drank some more wine, only now noting how it really did smell and taste just like the kind he’d drank daily in Italy. It was criminally good, the perfect accompaniment to his meal. He let it wash over him in a warm wave that ebbed and crested through his fingertips and settled in the pit of his stomach, comfortable and liberating. He set the glass back down and smiled as Elijah moved to refill it for him. 

He’d had enough wine that biting the bullet didn’t quite feel like it when he spoke, “I’m getting the impression this is more of a date than anything that has to do with business.” 

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

Connor graciously decided not to point out that he hadn’t disagreed. “We’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour and we haven’t talked shop once yet. You asked about me, my travels. Like you want to get to know me better.” With the tip of his fork, Connor speared another piece of the veal he’d taken such care to cut into small pieces at the beginning of the meal. “It makes me think you asked me here under false pretenses.” 

Elijah’s eyes flicked up to meet his own, his smile a wry little thing that he didn’t really do much to hide away from sight. He put the bottle back into the bucket of ice and gave an almost regal shrug of the shoulders in response. “In my experience,” he said smoothly, “there isn’t much difference between pleasure and business. At least,” he paused, cocking his head a little, “not when pursuing it with the right partner.” 

Connor didn’t reach for his wine just yet. He erred towards the water for a moment, determined not to get plastered before dessert. “I can’t imagine merging the two spheres,” he admitted, raising a brow. Either that had been a line to show Elijah was open to business with…  _ benefits  _ with him, or he really was just as strange and weird as he’d been suspecting him to be. “It seems… dangerous.”

“Are you afraid of danger?”

Connor leaned back in his seat, assessing the man opposite of him. “No,” he said, the certainty bubbling up from a place he hadn’t known existed. The wine loosened his tongue to let it out. He went on, “And I don’t think I’m afraid of you either.”

Elijah’s eyes widened a little. “Have I given you reason to be afraid of me?”

“My advisors seem to think you’re someone to be handled carefully.” Connor smiled despite himself. “They warned me to be careful around you. That you’re the kind of man that can open doors.”

“Oh?”

Connor shrugged a shoulder and reached for his wine once more. It was too good to let go to waste, especially after Elijah had gone to all the trouble to pour him a fresh glass. “That’s what they said, at least.” He took a slow sip and savored it. 

“And what do you believe?” Elijah smiled, a dare. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

The question was breezy, purposefully light. Connor, though, felt there was more to it than that. A gut feeling kind of thing. He licked his lips and fought to hold back a blush when he saw how Elijah’s eyes tracked the movement. For someone who had spoken of not being hungry, Elijah suddenly looked ravenous. But, the look was gone in the blink of an eye. Connor shook himself a little and sat a little straighter. He put down the wine. He’d probably had enough. 

“I think,” he said slowly, tasting the words the way he’d tasted the tannins. He wasn’t sure what he intended to say. He just opened his mouth and let the wine speak for him. “I think you’re the man who nearly sent me tumbling over a balcony, and then teased me for apologizing for it.” 

Elijah’s laugh was a warm, colorful thing. Warm because it made Connor warm, and colorful because it made his cheeks positively burn with ill-timed pink. Connor ate another bite of his dinner. He had a feeling Elijah would insist on paying for it despite not partaking himself. 

“That sounds about right,” Elijah admitted. 

“For now,” Connor corrected gently. “I think there’s a lot left to see when it comes to you, Mr. Kamski.”

“Elijah,” he returned. 

“Elijah,” Connor echoed. 

In the end, Connor had been right. Elijah did insist on paying, and no amount of protesting or bargaining could change his mind. Connor relented, and then relented again when Elijah offered to drive him home. 

“I couldn’t live with myself if I let you take a cab,” Elijah reasoned, Ares already holding open the door and watching them bicker with carefully veiled eyes. 

“I think you could,” Connor muttered, but just as he did with dinner, he gave in. The car ride home was quiet, yet comfortable. Connor was beginning to sense a trend to their interactions, and the feeling only grew stronger when they arrived and Elijah, once again, moved to open the door for him when he absolutely didn’t need to. 

“Can I see you again sometime?” Elijah asked, offering his cool hand to help him from the car. 

Connor debated the offer and the hand that extended it. He inhaled the cold, wintry air seeping into the warm car, and took Elijah’s hand. “I’d like that,” he said quietly, letting the man pull him onto the sidewalk. “Though, maybe next time you can give me more than five minutes warning. It’ll give me more time to make myself better company.”

“Impossible,” Elijah returned, smoothing his thumb over Connor’s knuckles. “I think I prefer it when I catch you unaware.”

Connor rolled his eyes and slowly tugged his hand free. He hitched his bag over his shoulder and looked up at his house, then back at Elijah. “You aren’t going to insist on walking me to the door, right?”

“Do I need to?”

“Do you want to?”

A laugh. Elijah shrugged and smiled wryly. “I think I’ll trust you to make it to the door on your own this time,” he said, resting his weight against the car behind him. “Thank you again for indulging me tonight. I’ll… be in touch.”

It was the cold wind that made Connor’s cheeks sting with heat. At least, that’s what he told himself. “Goodnight, Elijah,” he said, taking a step towards the house.

“Goodnight, Connor.” 

Connor turned away and didn’t let himself look back, even when he heard the sound of the car door opening and closing but not driving away. He fumbled for his keys and ignored how hard his heart hammered in his chest. It was so late at night, but he felt… awake. Alive.  _ Excited.  _

That was dangerous though, wasn’t it? He’d done something foolhardy tonight. He’d been warned, warned by people he trusted, and yet here he was, coming home hours late after spending the evening with a man he hardly knew. The thought of what he’d be in for the moment his advisors learned about this development tore a shiver down Connor’s spine that had nothing to do with the snow beginning to fall. 

But then he thought about the feeling of Elijah’s hand holding his own. His key skimmed the lock and he swore, shoving it in after a bit of finagling. He was making a fool of himself. Maybe it was good he hadn’t let Elijah walk him to the door. 

The key glided in and the tumblers caught, unlocking. Connor opened the door and put the concerns, worries, and doubts from his mind. He had a good time tonight, strange as it had all been. That was all that mattered. 

He made it two steps into the house before stopping short. It was a good thing too, since if he’d kept going he would’ve run straight into Nines on his way out the door. Connor caught his brother by the shoulders. Nines swore and gave up with fastening one of his piercings to his ear.

“Well,” Nines began, “it’s about time you got home.” 

Connor raised a brow. “Hello to you too,” he muttered, frowning as he pulled off his coat and hung it on the pegs lining the entryway wall. “Isn’t it a bit late to be going out?”

Nines lowered his hand from his ear, rolling his eyes. He looked Connor over from head to toe in turn, raising a brow. What he had to be critical of, Connor couldn’t know. He wasn’t the one wearing a mesh shirt, about a thousand leather and chain bracelets, and leather pants. 

“I don’t know,” Nines retorted. “Isn’t it a bit late to be getting home from  _ work?”  _

“Didn’t North call you?”

Nines crossed his arms. “Yeah, she called me.” He pulled a face. “She said you had a date and not to wait up. I thought she was messing with me, but I guess she wasn’t for once.”

Connor sputtered. “It wasn’t a  _ date,”  _ he replied. “I had dinner with another CEO. It was business.”

“Business? Alright.” Nines reached for his coat that hung beside the one Connor just took off. “That’s not what we call it where I hang out, but to each his own. I’m happy for you honestly. It’s about time you had some fun. You’re too young to act so old.”

“We’re the same age, Nines.”

Nines looked at him pityingly as he shrugged on his coat over his club gear. “I know. That’s why it’s sad. I can’t have fun for the both of us.” As he did up the buttons on his coat, he gave Connor another once over. “It’s just funny, is all.”

Connor eased past him, throwing down his bag on the chair nearest to the entryway. “Funny?” He loosened his tie and threw that down too, starting on his shoes next. “What’s so funny about it?”

“I just never would have pegged you for the sugar daddy type.” 

Connor froze, one shoe untied. He lifted himself back up and turned to glower at his brother. Nines smiled wryly then, every ounce the annoying little brother he was. He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “What’s his name? Anyone I know?”

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” Connor gritted through clenched teeth, settling on kicking off his shoes instead. He knocked them towards the wall and out of the walkway. “It’s Elijah Kamski. I doubt you’ve heard of him. I hadn’t before that mixer.”

“Huh.” 

“Yeah,” Connor sighed, resting his hands on his hips tiredly. “Huh.” 

The silence set in, and Connor grew restless in the way he always did when they were like this, both caught between their usual roles and unwilling to shift it back into neutral ground. Perhaps two in the morning did that to a person. He looked at Nines, at his drumming fingers and impatient toe-tapping. He clearly wanted to be on his way, even if he wasn’t going to be the one to say it out loud. 

“Are you… really going out now?” It was so late. He bit down on his lip. They’d had this argument many times before. He really was too tired to rehash it now, even if he didn’t like it one bit when Nines nodded. Connor sighed again, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Stay warm then. It’s cold out there.”

Nines waved off the concern and opened the door. “Get some sleep, Connor,” he said quietly, already one foot out the door. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he echoed, watching the door close and his brother disappear. Connor stood there for a minute, watching the lock click back into place from the other side. The house felt infinitely emptier already. Connor looked down at his socked feet, then at his bag. He shrugged off his suit jacket and headed towards his bedroom. It was too late to keep working. He’d just deal with it in the morning. 

The house was dark and quiet as he stripped and got into bed. It was quiet as he laid down. Connor pulled the sheets over his shoulders and fumbled for the light. 

“Funny, huh?” he whispered, killing the lights. 

Funny wasn’t the word he’d use for all the decisions he’d made tonight, but he supposed it worked as well as anything. 

Whatever. He’d get to that in the morning too. 


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend went by in a blur of frantic catch-up.

Unsigned forms, unread research proposals, the minutiae of day-to-day operations that probably shouldn’t be his responsibility to review but somehow still was— The moment Connor woke up following his mind-boggling not-date with Elijah was the moment he was hit by just how much work he’d put off in anticipation of hearing back from the man. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was barely nine. 

He grimaced and made himself get up, the guilt too much to put off in lieu of a few more hours of sleep. 

Like most things, he regretted every ounce of wasted time he’d talked himself into allowing, all those lunch breaks spent reading anything but company reports, all his late evenings spent zoning out once the background noise of the office had disappeared, everyone else headed home to their families and lives. He did his best to make up for it by diving headfirst into everything he’d put off during the week. If pressed, he couldn’t say he left his home office for the majority of the weekend. Nines had checked up on him occasionally but gave up on trying to get him to go out after Saturday. By Sunday, he’d stopped checking up at all. 

“You are definitely working too hard,” Nines had said before giving up entirely. He had leaned against the door frame and rolled his tired eyes. “So you went on a date, Connor. You’re allowed to have a personal life outside of work. It’s not like it’ll kill you to take it easy every now and then. There’s no need to punish yourself like this.”

“It’s not punishment, it’s being responsible. We can’t all be you, Nines,” Connor muttered under his breath. He hadn’t bothered to look away from the packet he’d been annotating, and he’d barely heard the sigh that earned him or the slightly louder than necessary closing of the door that signified Nines’s capitulation. 

By the time Monday rolled around, he was as worn out as he’d been last Friday. He hadn’t seen Nines since Saturday, every instance of needing food or the bathroom revealing that he’d already gone out on his own, either to the club or to run his own errands. Connor hadn’t bothered to try waking up either. After living with Nines for almost thirty years, he’d grown keen to his moods. He’d pissed him off at some point, and Connor knew better than to try forcing reconciliation this early on a Monday morning. 

Still. He couldn’t help but want to try anyway. He kneaded at his eyes, elbows propped on the island counter as he waited for the toaster to finish with his bagel. He’d already packed a few sandwiches for lunch, his bag just needing to be packed before he could call himself ready to begin the day officially. Connor dragged his hands down his face and groaned quietly in the dark kitchen. It said something about Nines that he could be so pissy over something as stupid as working through the weekend. But, then again, maybe it was something to be frustrated over. It wasn’t like he  _ always  _ did that.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Connor’s lips twisted into a petulant frown. Try as he might, he wasn’t perfect. His work ethic took dips and hits like anyone else’s, no matter how much he tried to be otherwise. He  _ wanted  _ to be productive though, and it felt like ever since the start of the new year he’d just been… distracted. He’d been bringing home more and more work each night to play catch-up. Maybe it had gotten to the point that even Nines was beginning to question it. 

Connor rubbed at his tired eyes. Then again, maybe it was just a mood. A funk. He wanted it to be a funk. Funks passed, and once this one did he’d go back to his usual productivity levels and everything would just go back to normal. Right? 

But, like a cold dose of reality poured directly down the back of his shirt, Connor lowered his hand and took in the thick stack of completed forms and the smaller stack of unfinished ones beside it next to his work bag. It didn’t really matter if it was a funk or just a burst of moodiness that made it hard to focus. He had a company to run, and it was too easy to fall behind if he let himself slack off, even for a few hours. He needed to do better this week. Monday was a fresh start, wasn’t it? That’s what those motivational posters always tried to sell. He’d make himself do better. 

The toaster popped behind him, startling him as it always did. Connor blinked himself to awareness. He turned woodenly towards the toaster and went through the motions of making breakfast, of packing up his bag. He vaguely heard shuffling around upstairs but nothing that sounded like Nines would be joining him anytime soon. 

He thought back to how his pager had gone off during the meeting the other day, frowning. Connor dropped his bag onto the counter, snatched his bagel off the plate, and made the trek back upstairs. If there was any chance of Nines riding in with him now, he’d take it. It’d save them both a lot of time later.

Rapping his knuckles on the door, Connor pressed his ear to the wood and called out, “You up?”

Vague noises answered him. It didn’t sound like Nines had brought home someone. Connor bit off a bite of bagel and decided to risk it. He opened the door and peeked into the darkness, frowning around his mouthful of blueberry flavored cream cheese at the state of the room. Nines had never been neat— Hell, Connor hadn’t either, but the amount of clothes on the floor rivaled what was left in his closet. Connor flicked on the light and wrinkled his nose. The air was stale and a bit sour, the bedding an absolute mess of mussed sheets and discarded pillows.

Twins though they may be, their aesthetics were polar opposites. Connor had designed his room with warm tones, wood furniture, and pale, neutral colors that helped him wind down at the end of a long day. He didn’t really have clutter so to speak, but stray clothing and messy bedding was the norm. He’d always thought it made things look more lived in, less… clinical. 

In some ways, Nines followed that line of thought. There were certainly clothes on the floor and an unmade bed in the center of it all. But when Connor found himself tripping three times on random shoes, bunched up leather, and what felt like an abandoned McDonald’s takeout bag, he realized there was a limit to what could be considered acceptable clutter. Nines had found that limit. He’d exceeded it about ten outfits ago, and the dark blue walls and band posters didn’t do much to make the place look like the room of a late-twenties adult. 

It hadn’t been this bad back when their parents had still been alive. Connor tried not to think too much into that. They’d both changed after the accident after all. 

“Nines?” he tried again. His ears perked when  _ something  _ answered him in the direction of Nines’s en suite bathroom. Connor fortified himself with another bite and moved towards the door. He pressed his ear to the door and readied himself to knock when he realized what those sounds were. 

Nines was vomiting. Loudly. 

“Great,” Connor sighed, pulling away from the door. There was no point in knocking. He’d been through this song and dance enough times to know that today was not the day to see Nines in the office before ten. He left Nines’s room and shut the light off as he went. He’d leave a note for North to bring the car around for him at the usual time. It wouldn’t save them much time, but sometimes  _ some  _ was better than  _ none  _ when it came to these kinds of things.

Connor grabbed his bag off the kitchen counter. He elected to finish his breakfast in the car. 

He arrived at the office a few minutes later than he normally did. A few employees were in the midst of arriving, and Connor did his best to be genial as they shared an elevator up to their respective floors. As he echoed the usual pleasantries, he mentally sorted through his schedule for the day. It was a busy one, just as it always was. He tried to summon up the energy to be optimistic about it. 

Maybe if he were lucky he’d get another call from Elijah for dinner. Connor’s smile warmed at the thought. The elevator dinged to signal his floor. Connor filed out behind the chattering programmers, a new spring in his step that guided him to his office and lasted him halfway through the morning before it saw fit to flag. 

And it wasn’t anything in particular that burned through his good mood. By all accounts his day was as routine as ever. He greeted North and left her his instructions for the day, picked up his latest stack of reports to go through, and locked himself in his office to do just that. He had no new messages from Elijah waiting for him, but he didn’t let it get to him. Elijah was busy. It could be a few days before they reconnected again. 

Even the half a dozen-odd messages on his phone from his advisors didn’t get to him. He listened to them one by one, rolling his eyes as they became progressively more frantic the longer he let them go on. How had they even found out about that? Maybe North had taken a call before heading home Friday after he’d gone off to dinner. But, no. North wouldn’t disclose his personal business like that, even to someone like Isaac. Connor frowned and drummed his fingers on the desk, the phone cradled between his cheek and shoulder as Isaac’s furtive tones rolled through one ear and right out the other. Would Nines have told them? Somehow that felt less likely than North. Whatever. Either way, word had gotten out  _ who  _ he’d been out with. They weren’t happy with him. That much was clear.

The current message clicked as it ended. The next one started up without prompting. Isaac again, the timestamp just a few minutes after the last. Connor sighed. His tone was a bit firmer this time around. Almost disappointed. Great. Being treated like a child wasn’t Connor’s idea of a good time, but it wasn’t unusual in the slightest. He worked his way through the messages and resolved to reply to them later, after he’d had a chance to come up with a civil excuse that amounted to more than just  _ I’m an adult and I don’t need your permission to do things.  _

_ And coffee,  _ Connor decided, hanging up the phone. He definitely needed coffee before he willfully dove into that quagmire on his own. 

He took his time getting the coffee. North offered to do it for him when he stopped by her desk to see if she wanted one too, but Connor turned down the offer, figuring it would do him some good to take a walk, clear his head. And by and large it did. The cafe wasn’t too busy given it was a few hours after the beginning of the day shift, and by taking the long way down Connor had the opportunity to check in on various departments on his way there. R&D was busy, frothing with movement and the sound of excited chatter and buzzing equipment. Finances, customer support, HR— all of them bubbled with activity. 

Perhaps the Monday doldrums weren’t as contagious as he’d feared. 

By the time Connor retrieved his coffee (as well as a muffin for North, her assurances that she was fine notwithstanding) he felt… not necessarily  _ better,  _ but more willing to take on the day. The elevator ride back up was peaceful and quiet, and the coffee he’d purchased was hot, warming, and invigorating. Connor laid out his plans for the rest of the morning. He’d start by returning Isaac’s harried phone calls. After that he’d set to finishing up the last dregs of last week’s paperwork, and then start in on today’s. Hopefully by the time lunch rolled around, he'd find that Nines had made it in. They were due for a progress meeting on R&D’s latest product line tests. 

The elevator opened with a subtle ding. Connor let out a soft sigh and stepped out, moving towards his office at a fast clip. All of that was easily doable, so long as he stayed motivated and kept on task. Monday’s didn’t have to be a drag. He’d start the week right and get back on task— 

“Connor!” a voice called out, cutting him off mid-pep talk. Connor’s head whipped around, his eyes growing wide when he spotted a familiar figure approaching him from down the hall. Her handbag swung from her arm, her smile bright but tense around the edges. “I’m so glad I found you. Your secretary said you’d stepped out for a moment, and this building is just so big!”

“Good morning, Angela,” Connor echoed, furrowing his brow as he slowed his power walk down to a casual stroll. She caught up quickly enough, patting down her flyaways with a self-conscious little titter. Connor looked back the way she’d come. Was Isaac here too somewhere? “I just went downstairs to get a coffee. Were you waiting long? I didn’t think we had anything scheduled today...” 

His eyes widened as a sudden sense of disquiet filled him. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I forgot a meeting—”

Angela’s hands immediately came up to wave that fear out of the air before it could fully hit home. “No, no, you didn’t forget anything,” she said, smiling that gentle smile of hers. “Or, maybe I should say we don’t have anything scheduled today. You did forget to do something, Connor. Something very important.”

Connor stopped walking. His heart constricted in his chest, instinctive in the way a child might feel when summoned to the principal’s office. He hadn’t done anything to warrant an in-person visit, had he? He glanced down at his coffee and suddenly found he’d lost his appetite for it. Maybe he should have called Isaac back as soon as he got in…

“Connor?”

He blinked back to awareness and stopped staring at his coffee. “Sorry.” It must have been bad if it warranted her coming here herself. Sure, she didn’t live as far away as Isaac or Satoshi, but still. He tried for a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What did you need?” He couldn’t help but feel like he was slipping again. 

Angela patted his arm. “I came on Isaac’s behalf,” she said, her smile matronly and almost aloof. “He called me this morning and asked me to check in on you since you weren’t answering your calls.”

“Is this about Friday?” Connor sighed, resisting the urge to pull away from her patting to cross his arms in front of his chest. “I haven’t had a chance to call Isaac back about it yet, and I have to say, I think it’s complete overkill for him to send you all the way over here just because I went to dinner with someone.”

“It wasn’t just  _ someone,  _ Connor,” she corrected gently. “It was Elijah Kamski.”

Great. This again. Rolling his eyes had never been so tempting. “Yes,” he said, taking a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. “He called me late Friday evening and asked me to dinner. I figured it was a good opportunity to get to know him. You  _ did  _ say you wanted me to keep him interested, right?”

Angela’s lips twisted into a conflicted frown. “You should have contacted one of us before accepting.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. His fist clenched around the crinkly paper bag holding North’s muffin. Sharp, clipped, he asked, “Why? And more importantly, how did you even hear about it?”

And just like before, Angela gave him no answer. She shifted and bit her lip, looking as evasive as she and Isaac had been the last time Elijah had come up. “There’s a lot riding on this, is all, and you know how quickly word travels in this city,” she tried, her next smile coming out a bit more patronizing than motherly this time around. “What did you talk about while you were with him? Did he mention anything about… working together?”

She was trying to change the topic. He went along with it if only because the questions were concerning enough in themselves. “No…” Connor said slowly. Working together? Like a merger? A partnership? “We didn’t talk about work much at all. We just worked on getting to know one another. I figured that would be best given I don’t know much about him still.” 

He frowned again at that, looking at Angela closely. “Why do you ask?”

There were a few stark differences that separated Angela from Isaac when it came to their advisory roles. Isaac was the old dog, seasoned, a veteran of the business world and wily enough to scent blood in the market before it even hit the water. He’d been an old friend of the family, a regular at his father’s weekly poker nights. Connor had grown up watching Isaac wheel and deal, and when it came to his own company, Connor knew that Isaac played with his cards to his chest. 

Angela though. Angela was the opposite, and it was clear to Connor that if Isaac had been able to make the drive in today, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat before he sent her to ask the questions. Angela didn’t play poker. She didn’t have the face for it, and as Connor looked into her eyes, he could read the lie on her lips even before she said, “No reason,” out loud. 

It took everything in Connor not to bare his teeth in response. He knew they barely took him seriously on a good day. He didn’t need her to rub it in his face at point blank range though. He really did not. 

“You know,” he said quietly, forcing himself to keep his tone even and unaffected, “if there’s something I should know about Elijah, it’d be best to tell me now.”

Angela’s eyes skimmed the floor. She held tight to the strap of her purse and smiled. “There are a lot of things about this world that you won’t understand until you’ve lived a little longer to see them.” She tucked a lock of her pale blond hair behind her ear, her kitchzy snowflake earrings—obviously a gift from one of her grandchildren—chiming softly from the move. “You know we only have your best interests at heart. Just… tell us before you decide to go out with him again, okay? Let us help you. It’s what we’re here for after all.”

On any other day, for any other reason, Connor might have taken that for the heartfelt sentiment Angela probably meant it to be. But today, he didn’t. He couldn’t. His jaw went tight and his breath came short. 

“Okay,” he said woodenly, angling his body towards the main office. “If that’s all you came here to say, then I think I should get back to work.”

“Just keep it in mind, Connor,” she said, not fighting him on it. “We just want to see this company succeed.” 

Connor didn’t know how to tell her that it would regardless of whether or not he ate dinner with Elijah again. He didn’t know how to stomach the thought that she didn’t seem to agree. That he’d done something to make her feel that way, and that it was very likely she wasn’t the only member of the board who felt that way. 

He left Angela by the elevator and didn’t bother looking back. It was insanely rude of him, and maybe in an hour or two he’d have the distance required to realize it and reflect, but for now he was annoyed, stomach churning with that sickly mix of frustration and guilt that always seemed to linger in him after a dressing down with one of his advisors, no matter how gently Angela had delivered it. 

It didn’t escape him for a moment how much this felt like an ambush. Next time he wouldn’t ignore the phone calls. At least with those he could maintain a better poker face as they willfully kept him in the dark. 

The main office area was filled with the sound of keyboards and soft voices answering routine calls. Connor tossed his cold coffee in the first trash can he passed. He made a beeline for North’s desk. A strange energy had begun to buzz beneath his skin, drawing it too tight around his frame. He needed… God, he didn’t even know. He needed a distraction, and he needed it sooner rather than later.

North looked up from her monitor as Connor entered her line of sight. Her phone was pressed against her ear, clearly in the middle of a call. She smiled, but the expression faltered a second later. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “You’re back,” she said quietly. “There are a few more calls that came in while you were out. I left the messages on your desk—” 

Connor couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at how he leaned on North’s desk for support. “I don’t want to look at them right now,” he muttered, “but thank you.” He contemplated collapsing entirely, just to rest his head a little, but North was already done with her phone call, her sharp eyes flicking towards him with all the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. 

“What can I do for you, boss?” she asked, giving him a quick once-over. Usually Connor assumed she did that sort of thing in order to anticipate his needs, that maybe he had a certain face that signified his need for a coffee or a fax to be sent posthaste. In reality, he knew it was just how North was— she liked to know things, liked to read a room and sense the mood so she could act appropriately. Her lips curled into a frown. “Do you need to go home early today?”

God, he really must look awful if that was her first assumption. Connor dragged his hand down his face and shook his head. The idea of going home before eleven sounded idyllic, but irresponsible all the same. He needed to be responsible. He’d told Angela that was what he was, so that was what he’d be, damnit. 

“No, no,” he said, letting his hand fall to the desk. He looked down at her neatly organized stacks, her tidy little cup full of pens and pencils, different colors for different tasks. North wasn’t the type for clutter. The only sort of personal touches she had were a couple pictures of her standing with some friends at a beach and a small flowering cactus she’d been given by one of the janitors who occasionally stopped by to clean out her shredder and exchange the latest office gossip. 

Connor sighed heavily. North leaned closer, worry evident in her eyes. “Can you call my brother up here?” Connor finally managed, looking anywhere but at her. “There are some things I need to talk to him about.”

North reached for her phone without taking her eyes off him. “Of course, Connor,” she said, dialing the extension blind. “I can call him up if you’d like to go sit down in your office.”

“Thank you, North. I think I will,” he breathed, eyes falling to his side. They widened a little. “Oh,” he murmured, placing the small paper bag holding her muffin on the desk. “I got you this from downstairs. Pumpkin coffee cake.”

“My favorite,” she finished for him, her lips splitting into a smile. She took the bag and placed it next to her keyboard. “Thanks— Mr. Arkay’s office to R&D,” she interjected, the call finally going through. She nodded to him and Connor nodded back, pulling away from her desk. She’d see to it that Nines made it up as soon as possible. Until then, he’d do as she’d suggested and go hide in his office until he arrived. 

Closing the door behind him almost acted like a panacea. Relief shot through his veins in a heady rush, his back propped against the wood as his head hung limply on his chest. Away from prying eyes and listening ears, away from Angela if she got it in her head to come back for one more thinly veiled attempt at  _ concern. _

Why that? Why _now_ of all times? He’d always been at war with the board over things like trust and responsibility and respect. It didn’t matter how many profitable quarters he led them to— they treated him like a child in need of guidance, second-guessing his decisions, questioning his logic, doubting the skill he’d showcased time and time again. It wasn’t uncommon. Hell, Connor was used to it. He _expected_ it at this point, but always in the boardroom. Never in his personal life.

Connor pushed off the door and moved towards his desk. A flashing light caught his eye, and he promptly scowled. More messages on his answering machine. He could already guess who it was, and he resolutely ignored it. He was not in the mood for it at all. 

But that brought up the question of what exactly he was in the mood for. He’d called for Nines on instinct, the ingrained need for familiarity taking over when common sense would have called for the opposite. Involving Nines in all of this felt… Well, it shouldn’t have felt as odd as it did. Nines was a member of the board too, even if he rarely woke up in time for the early morning meetings they often held. He was the head of their biggest department after all. If Connor was having problems with their advisors, Nines probably should be made aware. 

Only this wasn’t about them disliking some direction Connor wanted to take the company. It was dangerously close to infringing on his private life, and Connor didn’t think he had to like it. He certainly didn’t feel like he had to take it either. 

A knock sounded on the door. “Connor?” a familiar voice grunted through the wood. 

Connor barely had time to open his mouth before the door was opening and Nines coming on in. They didn’t have to stand on ceremony with one another, which usually was a blessing when compared to the day in and day out of politeness and hierarchical distance between them and their employees. Today though, Connor almost wished Nines would have waited for permission. It might have bought him another minute to think of a good excuse as to why he called him up here.

“Oh, hi,” Connor said lamely. “You got here fast.”

“I’d only just gotten into the lab, so I didn’t need to turn things off first.” His eyes skimmed the room almost as if he had expected to find someone else already there. His frowned when he only found Connor. 

“Did something get moved up? I thought we were meeting at four,” Nines grumbled, clearly still fresh from the mess his morning had been. He couldn’t have been in for more than an hour, Connor hazarded. The ends of his hair still looked a little damp from his shower. 

“Yeah. Sorry about that. We still are if you’re ready for it,” Connor said, thinking fast. “I just… wanted to see you this morning. We barely saw each other over the weekend and…” His eyes skimmed the space around the desk, searching for a good excuse that wouldn’t reveal just how pathetic this morning had seen him. His eyes caught on a small brown bag. “And I made us some lunch. I figured we could eat together. I’ve got a meeting during my usual lunch hour, so I figured we could do it now.” 

It was a testament to Nines’s exhaustion that he didn’t try to question what was clearly a lie and easily fact-checked if he’d just stick his head out the door and ask North. He just shrugged and flopped onto the couch with a muted groan. The dark bags under his eyes were intense, giving him the appearance of a particularly sullen teenager forced out of bed after sleeping an hour at most. 

Connor fought back the urge to snort at the thought as he brought the lunch bag over to the couch to sit down next to him. He was probably closer to the truth than Nines would want him to be. It’d be an easy thing to make a joke or call him out for it. Maybe it would even be the dose of levity he sorely needed right about now.

“Whatever,” he grunted articulately. “Gives me more time to wake up before I have to handle heavy machinery.”

“Here,” Connor said instead, pulling out the extra sandwich he’d packed and placing it in his brother’s lap. When it came down to it, nothing made him feel better about his own shitty choices than helping Nines deal with his mess of a lifestyle. “Eat it. You’ll feel better.”

Nines groaned again, a little softer this time. He peeled open an eye and assessed the offering in question. Connor busied himself with unwrapping the other sandwich still in the bag. “Is this—?”

“There’s no mayo,” Connor interjected, taking a bite so small that it was more bread than meat. He rolled his eyes when Nines gave him a distrusting look. Really? “I think I know by now how you’ll act if I make you a sandwich with the wrong condiments, Nines. Just eat it already before you throw up again.”

“...I didn’t throw up,” Nines muttered, reluctantly picking at the food. 

Connor gave him a knowing look. “I heard you dry heaving when I was getting ready this morning.” 

“You imagined it.”

“I did not imagine you puking,” Connor said, exasperated. “Who would want to imagine that? I try to save my fits of fancy for things that don’t involve you barfing.”

Nines side-eyed him. “Like that sugar daddy of yours?”

Connor glared at Nines woodenly, taking a vicious bite of his sandwich as he did so. “No,” he said firmly. His eyes fell to the sandwich in Nines’s loose hands. “I’ll take that back if you keep that up. Don’t think I won’t.”

Despite the snort Nines shot him in response, he still curled protectively around his food. “Fucking try it,” he sniped, taking a big bite of his own as if to mark his territory. “I’m bigger than you. I’ll sit on you and eat yours in front of you.”

“There’s mayo on mine.”

Nines scowled. “Disgusting.”

Connor almost smiled. “Effective, you mean.”

“Whatever,” he said, the words a bit garbled through his mouthful of bread and turkey. He made an appreciative noise as he chewed, one that Connor echoed when he bit into his own sandwich. They managed to get through about half of their impromptu lunch before Nines saw fit to look at Connor, brow raised expectantly. 

“What?” Connor asked, his eyes falling to the floor. Playing coy wouldn’t get him far, but it felt safer to be avoidant. 

“This is a pretty good sandwich.”

Connor’s shoulders lowered an inch. He glanced towards Nines. “Thanks…”

Nines leaned forward, forcing eye contact in the next instant. “Why am I eating it at 10:30 in the morning?”

There was nowhere to run. Nines had him in his sights, their thighs pressed together as if to remind Connor that if he tried to run, Nines would be on him in a second. The threat of sitting on him wasn’t just talk; Connor had plenty of childhood memories of Nines throwing around his weight so he could get his way. It’d probably be bad for their image if someone walked in on the CEOs squabbling on the floor. 

God, but if Connor wasn’t tempted to try his luck anyway.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, lying through his teeth. “I was hungry. I figured you’d be hungry too.”

“Connor,” Nines said flatly. “It’s 10:30. In the morning.” He pulled back a little to take another bite, gesturing with the rest of his sandwich towards the door. “North sounded like you were about to die or something when she called. Why?”

“It’s nothing.”

Nines’s responding look was absolutely withering. Connor managed to suffer it for almost a full minute before breaking down enough to sigh and slump against the back of the couch. He couldn’t even make himself feel bad for giving in. What else had he expected after calling Nines up here? He had panicked, and when he panicked he only knew one person to run to for comfort. 

“I got scolded,” he said ruefully, the remainder of his lunch balanced carefully on his knee. 

“Scolded?” Nines repeated, furrowing his brow. “By who?”

“Angela if you can believe it.” Connor snorted when yeah, Nines didn’t. His nose was all scrunched up and his brows were lifted towards his hairline. “I know, right? And it wasn’t just her. I came in this morning and Isaac had blown up my answering machine with half a dozen phone calls about how disappointed he was in me for  _ making moves without consulting the others  _ first,” he said, lifting his empty hand to make air quotes.

“Were you?”

Connor frowned. “Was I what?”

Nines’s expression mirrored Connor’s. “Making moves.”

“No,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face to knead at his eyes. “You weren’t there at the meeting the other week, but they’ve all got it in their heads that Elijah is some big-shot that we need to tread carefully around. It’s like they think there’s going to be talks of a merger if I’m not careful, but for the life of me I can’t tell if they  _ want  _ that or not.” Connor let his hand fall to his lap. He stared at the floor, biting his lip. “All I did was go to dinner with the man. I don’t know why they’re making such a huge deal about it, but it… God, it stressed me out. They made me think I’d done something horrible by not telling them before accepting the invitation.”

Silence. Connor flicked his gaze towards Nines only to find him chewing thoughtfully on the last few bites of his sandwich. Connor worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He counted his breaths, breaking the quiet once he reached twenty and Nines still hadn’t said anything. 

“So?” he led, holding back on the urge to nudge him too for good measure. “Anything thoughts? Concerns? Words of advice?”

Nines raised a brow. “Advice? Isn’t that more your area of expertise,  _ big  _ brother?”

“Goddamnit, Nines, don’t be a bitch. I fed you a sandwich.”

“Hmm.” Nines looked at the last bit of the food and popped it into his mouth. “Could’ve used more meat, but alright. It sounds to me like they know more about this Kamski guy than you do, and usually that means they’re coming from a place of genuine concern. You pay them to give you advice, right? So what if it’s weird or out of left field? You trust them, don’t you?”

“It was just one date,” Connor said helplessly. “Are you seriously telling me that Angela and Isaac are right in thinking that I’ll lose us the company over a single dinner?”

“So, you’re admitting it was a date?” Nines countered breezily, completely ignoring the question. 

Connor glowered at his brother. His cheeks felt warm. “That isn’t the point.”

Nines balled up his empty sandwich wrapper and gave him a pointed look. “Says the one who hasn’t been on a date since we started college. You never do shit like this. Maybe they’re just worried about you.”

“Why would they be worried?” Connor mumbled, running his hand through his hair. The locks were beginning to get a little too long. Curls snagged his fingers, tripping him up. “We haven’t talked business at all. If they think he’s trying to get information about our classified projects or… or whatever it is they think he’s doing, he’s got one hell of a way of going about it.”

A loud sigh pulled his attention back to Nines. His brother looked tired. Brows pinched, skin pale, shoulders slumped. “You’re an idiot,” he said simply. 

“Well, now I’m regretting feeding you,” Connor muttered, shooting Nines a glare. “I’m just saying it doesn’t make sense.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Connor frowned. “Do you think I would’ve called you up here if I didn’t?” 

Nines rolled his eyes, falling back heavily against the sofa until his posture was bad enough to make even Connor wince. “I think that you’re a workaholic recluse who never lets himself have fun.”

“Wow, thanks—”

Blue eyes cut to Connor, the rest of Nines’s head not moving an inch. “I’m not done,” he said with a huff. “You never go out. You never talk to people about anything that’s not work.  _ I’m  _ your closest friend, and we shared a uterus. Your social life is non-existent. Actually, it’s worse than that. It’s been dead on arrival from the moment we started this company. And now there’s some guy—some insanely connected guy we don’t know from Adam—taking you out on surprise dates at night. And you  _ let  _ him.”

Nines paused to cross his arms over his chest. His suit jacket was nice enough, but the shirt under it was full of wrinkles. His eyes softened when he met Connor’s gaze. “I spoke to Nyssa, you know. Before I came up here, I mean.”

“Okay… About what?”

“About Kamski.”

Connor blinked. “And?”

“And apparently we’ve been living under a rock,” Nines said flatly. “He’s the CEO of Cyberlife. Former, I should say. Apparently he stepped down and only works in a supervisory capacity now, but everyone knows he’s still the real power behind it all.”

Cyberlife… Connor’s teeth clicked as he closed them on nothing. That was… God. “That’s the biggest tech conglomerate in the country,” he said a bit helplessly. No wonder they were all shocked he came to that mixer. 

“Exactly. Nyssa used to intern at their main office. She said they’ve got irons in pretty much every market fire.” A dollop of mustard must have dripped from Nines’s sandwich and landed on the heel of his hand. He paused to lick it clean despite the napkins tucked inside the paper bag between them. “The guy’s powerful to say the least.”

Well, Connor had sort of gathered that already. Just being around him felt… daunting in some unnameable way. But still. He’d felt comfortable too. There was an ease to their interactions that belied their short acquaintance. “Then shouldn’t they just let me take lead on it?” he asked. “If he’s that much of a high roller, shouldn’t they just, I don’t know, trust me to handle it? I’ve been handling it just fine so far.”

Nines gave him a droll shrug. “I don’t think they care about you dating some guy.” He kicked out his long legs and rested heavily against the back of the sofa. “They care about how out of character this is for you, and that probably worries them because they don’t know what he might get you to do if you end up falling for him or something. He’s a powerful guy, right? Those tend to be eccentric to say the least.”

The silence that followed was heavy, weighty. Connor turned away and looked at the floor. “That’s…” He licked at his lips, struggling to make sense of the various thoughts vying for supremacy on his tongue. “I don’t get why everyone has to freak out just because it’s me.” He shot Nines an accusatory look. “You go out all the time with people you don’t even know.” He’d only been to Nines’s club of choice once or twice, but that was more than enough times to know that the men Nines tended to favor were a far cry beyond  _ eccentric  _ themselves.

“Exactly,” Nines replied, bumping Connor’s knee with his own. “I’m not trying to get to know them. They aren’t trying to know me either. People are only dangerous when they know you, Con. The fact that you keep trying to hide him from everyone doesn’t exactly make us feel better about the situation.”  

Wait. Connor looked at Nines carefully. “Us?”

“What do you want me to say? I don’t know the guy either. It’s weird to see you fixated like this and I don’t have to like it.” Nines braced his hands on his knees and pushed off the couch. He had his wrapper balled up in his hand, his eyes searching the room for the trashcan. 

“He’s not a bad guy,” Connor said, stunning himself by the wave of defensive energy welling up inside him. “And I’m not some doe-eyed kid who’s going to sign over the company just because someone took me out to dinner a couple of times. It was one date, Nines. That’s not fixated.”

“But you still want to see him again, right?” Nines muttered. “Listen, I’m not saying you can’t see the guy. I’m just saying that we’ve been on our own for awhile now. We’ve gotten on pretty well, just the two of us.” Nines paused to throw away his trash. “We don’t need to go changing that,” he finished, one hand on the door, his eyes falling somewhere around Connor’s feet. “Are you good now? I’ve got to get back to the lab before something blows up.”

Connor snorted as he braced his elbows on his knees, nodding his head. Leave it to Nines to be the king of emotional deflections. “Okay,” he murmured. He’d let Nines run off without a fight. He’d helped calm him down at least, and that was all Connor could really have hoped for. He tried for a smile. “I’ll… see you later then? At that R&D meeting?” 

“If I don’t go throwing up again,” he answered dryly, and just like that the tension broke, sending them both into poorly muffled laughter. 

Connor waved at Nines to go. “Get back to work already,” he smiled, leveraging himself off the couch. He felt lighter now. Not better, per se, but good enough to get back to the work piling up on his desk. “Puke on your own time.”

Nines rolled his eyes. “See you, Con.”

“Later, Nines.”

And then Connor was alone with his half eaten sandwich. He smiled down at his desk, spirits not quite bolstered but noticeably lighter, if only for the moment. Nines had succeeded in calming him down at least, even if he’d raised more questions than had been answered. Though, when it came to the likes of Elijah Kamski, that really did seem par for the course. 

“We have each other, huh?” he said to himself. 

At least he could always count on that.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up that updates are gonna be slow for the next month or so. im in the middle of helping write a tarot deck guide book for my good friend ambisun over on twitter and it's gonna be taking up most of my attention for August. ill try to get some stuff done in between bouts of quota work, but ill be pretty pressed for time. anyway, thanks for reading! check out my twitter for more updates and such as they come.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter for more dbh funtimes and sneak peeks into the writing of this and other fics @tdcloud_writes, and if you'd like to join a dedicated and active DBH discord server where you can hang out in my author channel to chat with me about my work, feel free to join here: https://discord.gg/4wQ5GVd.
> 
> As always, if you enjoy my work and care to see my original work, check me out under the name T.D. Cloud online!


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